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Our  Little   Irish   Cousin 


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Little  Cousin  Series 

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By  Mary  Hazelton  Wade 

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Our  Little  African  Cousin 
Our  Little  Alaskan  Cousin 

By  Mary  F.  Nixon-Roulet 

Our  Little  Arabian  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  Armenian  Cousin 

By  Constance  F.  Curlewis 

Our  Little  Australian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Brazilian  Cousin 

By  Mary  F.  Nixon-Roulet 

Our  Little  Brown  Cousin 
Our  Little  Canadian  Cousin 

By  Elizabeth  R.  MacDonald 

Our  Little  Chinese  Cousin 

By  Isaac  Taylor  Headland 

Our  Little  Cuban  Cousin 
Our  Little  Dutch  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  Egyptian  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  English  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  Eskimo  Cousin 
Our  Little  French  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  German  Cousin 
Our  Little  Greek  Cousin 

By  Mary  F.  Nixon-Roulet 

L.  C.  PAGE 

New  England  Building, 


Our  Little  Hawaiian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Hindu  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  Indian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Italian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Japanese  Cousin 
Our  Little  Jewish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Korean  Cousin 

By  H.  Lee  M.  Pike 

Our  Little  Mexican  Cousin 

By  Edward  C.  Butler 

Our  Little  Norwegian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Panama  Cousin 

By  H.  Lee  M.  Pike 

Our  Little  Philippine  Cousin 
Our  Little  Porto  Rican  Cousin 
Our  Little  Russian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Scotch  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  Siamese  Cousin 
Our  Little  Spanish  Cousin 

By  Mary  F.  Nixon-Roulet 

Our  Little  Swedish  Cousin 

By  Claire  M.  Coburn 

Our  Little  Swiss  Cousin 
Our  Little  Turkish  Cousin 

&   COMPANY 

Boston,  Mass. 


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NORAH. 


*  Our  Little  Irish  * 

%  Cousin  * 

*  * 
* * 

*  By  * 

4*  Mary  Hazelton  Wade  4* 

*  * 

*  * 

♦^  Illustrated  by  gL 

*  L.  J.  Bridgman  *       V3/^ 
* *  ^ 

* 

*  —  4- 


Boston  4 

L.  C.  Page  <fb°  Company  T 

Publishers  4 


Copyright,  1904 
By  L.  C.  Page  &  Company 

(incorporated) 


All  rights  reserved 


Published  June,  1904 


Fifth  Impression,  August,  1908 


Preface 

You  have  often  heard  people  speak  of  the 
Emerald  Isle.  When  you  have  asked  where 
it  is  and  why  it  is  so  called,  you  have  been 
told  it  is  only  another  name  for  that  small 
island  to  the  northwest  of  the  continent  of 
Europe  called   Ireland. 

The  rains  there  fall  so  often,  and  the  sun 
shines  so  warmly  afterward,  that  Mother  Na- 
ture is  able  to  dress  herself  in  the  brightest 
and  loveliest  of  colours.  The  people  there 
are  cheerful  and  good-natured.  They  are 
always  ready  to  smile  through  their  tears  and 
see  the  funny  side  of  every  hardship. 

And,  alas  !  many  things  have  happened  to 
cause  their  tears  to  flow.  They  have  suffered 
from  poverty  and  hunger.  Thousands  of 
them  have   been  forced   to  leave  parents  and 


vi  Preface 

friends,  and  seek  a  living  within  the  kindly 
shores  of  America. 

America  is  great,  America  is  kind,  they  may 
think,  but  oh  !  for  one  look  at  the  beautiful 
lakes  of  Killarney ;  oh  !  for  a  walk  over  the 
green  fields  and  hills  of  the  Emerald  Isle. 
And  oh  !  for  the  chance  to  gather  a  cluster 
of  shamrock,  the  emblem  of  dear  old  Erin. 

The  little  Irish  cousin,  who  has  never  left 
her  native  land,  may  be  poor,  and  sometimes 
ragged,  but  her  heart  is  warm  and  tender,  and 
she  loves  her  country  and  her  people  with 
a  love  that  will  never  change,  no  matter 
where  she  may  travel  or  what  fortune  may 
befall  her. 


Contents 

CHAPTER 
I. 

NORAH          

PAGR 
I 

II. 

The  Thunder-storm 

14 

III. 

St.  Patrick 

32 

IV. 

Daniel  O'Connell 

44 

V. 

KlLLARNEY 

54 

VI. 

Hallowe'en 

■       7o 

VII. 

Fairies      .... 

80 

VIII. 

Blarney  Castle 

.       96 

List    of  Illustrations 


PAGE 


Norah         .......      Frontispiece 

•«  The    driver    stopped    his    car    and    asked 
Norah  how  far  it  was  to  the  Lakes   of 

Killarney  " 1 6 

Norah's  Home 30 

The  Monument  to  Daniel  O'Connell       .        .  52 

Norah  and  Mollie  at  Lough  Lean  ...  62 

Mollie  and  Her  Father  Visit  Blarney  Castle  100 


Our   Little    Irish   Cousin 


CHAPTER   I. 


NORAH 


"  Londonderry,  Cork,  and  Kerry, 
Spell  that  to  me  without  a  K." 

"  Can  you  do  it  now  ? "  said  Norah, 
laughing. 

"Can  I  do  it?  Yes,  easy  enough,  for  I've 
heard  the  riddle  before.  T-h-a-t.  There, 
Norah,  you  didn't  catch  me  this  time." 

Molly  laughed,  too,  as  she  spoke,  and  the 
little  girls  went  on  dressing  their  rag  dolls. 

They  were  great  friends,  these  two  children 
of  Ireland,  and,  although  they  were  ragged 
and  dirty  most  of  the  time,  and   neither  of 


2  Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 

them  owned  hats  or  shoes,  they  were  happy 
as  the  day  is  long.  And,  when  I  say  this,  I 
mean  one  of  the  longest  days  of  Ireland, 
which  are  very  long  indeed. 

Norah  had  beautiful  blue  eyes  and  dark 
auburn  hair.  Her  teeth  were  like  pearls  and 
her  cheeks  were  rosy  as  the  brightest  sunset. 

"  She  is  a  true  daughter  of  Erin,"  thought 
her  mother,  as  she  looked  at  the  child. 
"  May  God  will  that  she  grow  up  to  be  as 
good  as  she  is  beautiful,"  she  said  to  herself, 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  her  breast. 

As  for  Molly,  Norah's  little  playmate,  her 
hair  was  black  as  night.  Many  other  lads 
and  lasses  of  Ireland  have  hair  like  that.  It 
is  because,  long  years  ago,  before  even  the 
Christ-child  dwelt  among  men,  Spaniards  came 
to  the  west  coast  of  Ireland  and  settled  among 
the  people  there. 

They  gave  their  black  hair  and  dark  eyes  to 
the  people  already   in   the  country,  most  of 


Norah  3 

whom  were  fair  in  face,  hair,  and  eyes.  So  it 
happens  that  sometimes  they  now  have  dark 
hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  sometimes  light  hair 
and  dark  eyes. 

"  Norah  !  Norah,  darlint !  Come  and  feed 
the  pigs,"  called  her  mother.  "  They  are  that 
hungry  they  would  eat  the  thatch  off  the 
house  if  they  could  reach  it." 

Norah  jumped  up,  and  running  home  as 
fast  as  her  young  feet  could  carry  her,  took 
the  dish  of  mush  from  her  mother's  hands. 
She  was  instantly  surrounded  by  a  thin  old 
mother  pig  and  her  ten  little  ones. 

They  were  cunning  little  things  when  they 
were  born,  and  Norah  loved  to  hold  them  in 
her  arms  and  pet  them.  But  they  were  big 
enough  now  to  root  about  in  the  mud,  and 
the  little  girl   held  them  no  longer. 

"  Oof!  oof! "  grunted  the  mother  pig. 
"  Good !  good  ! "  was  what  she  meant,  of 
course,  as  she  swallowed  her  supper  as  quickly 


4  Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 

as  possible,  and  the  ten  babies  followed  her 
example. 

Then  Norah  had  to  feed  the  ducks  and 
chickens,  and  her  precious  goat. 

"  I  love  it.  Oh,  I  love  it,  next  to  father 
and  mother  and  the  children,"  thought  the 
little  girl. 

"  How  much  it  knows,  and  how  gentle  it 
is !  And  what  should  we  do  without  the 
sweet,  rich  milk  it  gives  us  ! "  she  said,  turn- 
ing to  Molly,  who  was  helping  her  in  her 
work. 

"It  is  a  dear  little  creature"  (Molly  pro- 
nounced it  crayther),  "  but  I  love  our  pet 
cow  better.  I  suppose  the  reason  is  because 
it  is  ours.  But,  good  night  till  ye,  Norah.  I 
must  be  after  getting  home." 

Molly  went  running  down  the  lane,  while 
Norah  entered  the  house. 

House !  It  would  hardly  be  fair  to  give 
it  such  a  grand  name.     It  was  a  small  stone 


Norah  5 

hut,  not  much  taller  than  Norah's  father,  with 
a  roof  covered  with  mud  and  straw  mixed 
together.     Such  a  roof  is  said  to  be  thatched. 

There  was  only  one  window  in  the  hut,  and 
that  was  a  small  one.  The  door  was  divided 
across  the  middle,  and  the  upper  part  of  it 
stood  wide  open.  Yet,  as  Norah  stepped 
inside,  the  air  was  thick  and  heavy  with 
smoke. 

Over  in  one  corner  was  a  fireplace,  and  in  it 
cakes  of  dried  peat  were  slowly  burning.  It 
was  the  only  kind  of  fuel  Norah's  mother  had 
to  burn,  so  it  was  no  wonder  the  air  of  the 
room  was  smoky. 

Do  you  know  what  peat  is  ?  In  Norah's 
country  there  are  many  square  miles  of  marshy 
land  covered  with  moss  and  grasses.  If  it 
could  speak  to  us,  this  land  would  tell  a 
wonderful  story. 

"  Ages  and  ages  ago,"  it  would  say,  "  great 
forests   of  oak  stood   here.     The   trees  grew 


*i 


6  Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 

large  and  strong.  But  the  rain  fell  often  and 
the  air  was  very  damp.  This  is  the  reason 
mosses  and  other  plants  gathered  on  the 
trunks  and  branches  of  the  trees.  They 
sent  their  roots  into  the  moist  bark  and  fed 
on  the  sap  that  should  have  nourished  the  trees. 

"  The  great  trees  became  weaker  and 
weaker  as  the  years  passed  away,  until  at 
last  they  sickened  and  died,  and  fell  to  the 
ground. 

"  Fir-trees  began  to  grow  in  the  places  of 
the  oaks.  But  they  were  treated  in  the  same 
manner.  Their  life-giving  sap  was  taken  by  a 
new  growth  of  mosses.  The  fir-trees  died, 
and  added  to  the  great  masses  of  decaying 
wood  which  now  covered  the   damp  ground. 

"  Then  plants  grew  up.  But  they  met 
with  the  same  fate  as  the  trees. 

"  Thousands  and  thousands  of  years  passed 
by.  The  beautiful  forests  that  once  covered 
the  land  were  slowly  changed  into  peat." 


Norah  7 

The  peat-bogs  are  now  so  thick  and  heavy 
that  the  poor  of  Ireland  can  dig  twenty-five 
feet  into  them  and  cut  out  squares  of  the  solid 
peat. 

After  drying  them  in  the  air  and  sunshine, 
the  people  burn  them  in  place  of  coal.  This 
queer  fuel  does  not  make  as  bright  and  clear  a 
fire  as  coal,  but  it  is  cheap,  and  keeps  the  poor 
from  suffering. 

"  Be  patient  and  wait  only  a  few  more 
thousands  of  years,"  the  bogs  would  say  to 
us  if  they  could,  "  and  you  may  have  coal 
instead  of  peat.  Father  Time  will  make  the 
change  without  any  work  on  your  part." 

But  the  people  of  Ireland  cannot  wait. 
Most  of  them  are  very,  very  poor.  They 
live  from  day  to  day,  glad  if  they  have  a  roof 
to  cover  their  heads  and  food  enough  to  keep 
them  from  starving. 

Norah's  father  hires  the  land  for  his  little 
farm  from  a  rich  lord  who  lives  most  of  the 


8  Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

year  in  England.  The  Irishman  built  the 
little  hut  on  this  land  for  himself  and  wife, 
and  his  family  of  growing  children. 

"  What  use  would  it  be  to  spend  much 
time  on  it  ? "  he  would  say.  "  The  better 
I  make  the  place,  the  more  rent  I  shall  have 
to  pay." 

Every  year  he  planted  his  patch  of  potatoes 
and  cabbages  for  himself,  besides  oats  and 
turnips  and  other  things  for  his  fowls  and  pigs 
and  goat.  He  mended  the  thatched  roof 
when  it  leaked  too  badly  for  comfort,  and 
they  all  tried  to  be  happy.  They  succeeded 
pretty  well. 

When  each  new  year  came  around,  the 
home  looked  about  as  usual.  It  was  no 
better,  and  no  worse,  unless,  perhaps,  it  was 
a  wee  bit  more  shabby. 

But  the  children  grew  fast.  They  were 
merry  and  rosy,  and  thought  very  little  about 
the  shabby  stone  hut  they  called  "  home." 


Norah  9 

"  Sivin  of  us  there  are,"  Norah  would  tell 
you,  "  and  baby  Pat  is  the  dearest  and  best  of 
us  all." 

As  she  came  in  to  supper  that  night,  her 
mother  lifted  the  kettle  that  hung  by  a  hook 
over  the  smoky  fire  and  made  a  pot  of  tea. 
Then  she  placed  a  dish  of  steaming  potatoes 
and  a  plate  of  dark,  heavy  bread  on  the  table. 

"  A  good  supper,  indade,"  thought  the  hun- 
gry children,  and  in  a  few  minutes  not  a  sign 
of  anything  to  eat  could  be  seen. 

"  Here  chick  !  chick  !  "  called  Norah,  drop- 
ping crumbs  to  her  pet  chicken.  It  had  kept 
close  beside  her  during  the  meal,  and  once 
had  grown  so  impatient  that  it  flew  up  into 
the  little  girl's   lap. 

An  old  hen  had  already  gone  to  roost  on 
the  rung  of  a  stool  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
room,  while  the  much-loved  goat  stood 
munching  grass  at  Norah's  elbow. 

The  child's  mother  did  not  seem  troubled 


10        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

in  the  least  by  these  things.  She  was  busy  as 
busy  could  be,  giving  hot  potatoes  and  slices 
of  bread  to  Mike  and  Joe,  Norah  and  Katie, 
while  she  trotted  baby  Patsy  on  her  knee. 

But  when  the  whole  flock  of  geese  came 
running  and  flying  into  the  hut  for  their  share 
of  the  family  supper,  it  was  a  little  too  much. 

"  Away  with  you,  noisy  creatures !  "  cried 
the  busy  mother.  "  Away  with  you  !  Mike, 
take  the  broom  and  drive  them  out.  Joe, 
lend  a  hand  and  help  your  brother." 

When  the  room  had  been  cleared  of  the 
greedy  geese,  every  one  went  on  eating,  until 
not  even  a  crumb  was  left  on  the  table. 

The  girls  cleared  away  the  dishes ;  the  boys 
brought  a  load  of  peat  into  the  house,  and 
placed  it  before  the  fire  to  dry  for  burning ;  the 
mother  rocked  Patsy  to  Dreamland,  and  the 
father  smoked  his  pipe. 

Then,  when  the  work  was  all  done,  he  told 
the  children  there  was  good  news. 


Norah  1 1 

"  What  is  it,  what  is  it  ? "  they  all  cried 
together. 

"  A  letter  from  our  own  Maggie,  in 
Ameriky.  Sure,  what  else  could  the  good 
news  be  ?  "  said  their  father.  "  Listen,  and 
you  shall   hear  it. 

" c  Dear  Father  and  my  own  sweet 
Mother  :  —  First  of  all,  how  are  yoursilves 
and  the  pigs  and  all  the  children  ?  I  have  a 
good  place,  and  my  mistress  is  very  kind  to 
me.  My  work  is  not  hard,  and  I  am  fast 
learning  the  ways  of  this  great  country.  My 
wages  is  now  two  dollars  and  a  half  the  week. 
In  the  money  of  good  ould  Ireland,  that  is 
just  ten  shillin's.  By  bein'  careful  since  I 
last  wrote  ye,  I  have  saved  enough  to  send 
you  two  pounds.  My  master  got  the  money 
changed  for  me,  he  was  that  kind.  What 
will  the  money  buy  yez  now?  Mother 
darlint  must  have    two   pounds    of  the   best 


12        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

tay,  and  a  new  red  woollen  petticoat.  You, 
father,  will  have  some  grand  leather  boots, 
and  aich  of  the  children  must  buy  something 
for  the  remimbrance  of  the  sister  Maggie  far 
across  the  great  say. 

"  *  Good-bye,  and  may  the  blissings  of 
Hiven  fall  upon  ye. 

«<  Maggie   O'Neil.'" 

As  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  letter,  every 
one  was  silent  for  a  moment.  The  mother 
wiped  away  some  tears  which  had  fallen  upon 
her  cheek,  and  her  husband  cleared  his  throat. 

Two  pounds !  It  seemed  like  a  fortune  to 
the  little  family.  It  was  nearly  enough  to  pay 
the  year's  rent. 

"  But  the  pigs  are  doing  well,  and,  if  they 
keep  on,  there  will  be  no  trouble  when  rent 
time  comes,"  said  the  father,  as  they  sat  talk- 
ing the  matter  over.  "  The  price  of  the  pigs 
will  be  enough  for  the  rint,  I'm  thinkin'.     It 


Norah  13 

shall  be  as  Maggie  said.  Let  the  childer  go  to 
bed  and  dream  of  the  fine  things  they  will  see 
in  the  town  when  they  go  shopping." 

Somehow  or  other  the  children  were  all 
stowed  away  for  the  night  in  the  small  room 
next  the  kitchen,  and  Norah  was  soon  sound 
asleep,  and  dreaming  a  most  wonderful  dream. 

It  seemed  in  her  dream  that  the  goat  was 
harnessed  to  the  jaunting-car  belonging  to  the 
father  of  her  friend  Molly.  He  was  a  very, 
very  big  goat  in  the  dream,  and  he  looked 
really  handsome,  as  he  capered  down  the  lane, 
carrying  the  whole  family  to  market. 

Norah's  pet  chicken  was  going  to  see  the 
sights,  for  he  was  perched  on  the  goat's  head. 
The  old  mother  pig  ran  by  his  side,  and  the 
baby  pigs,  with  their  curly  tails  high  up  in  the 
air,  were  trying  their  best  to  keep  up.  Every- 
body was  laughing  and  singing  to  the  tune  of 
an  Irish  jig  that  Norah's  father  was  playing 
on  the  bagpipes. 


CHAPTER   II. 


THE    THUNDER  -  STORM 


"  Whisht,  now  !  The  fairy  folk  are  pass- 
ing along.  We  must  get  out  of  their  way, 
and  greet  them  politely,"  said  Norah  to  her 
little  sister  Kate,  as  she  made  a  bow,  and 
whispered,  "  God  speed  ye." 

The  children  were  out  berrying,  and  were 
quite  a  distance  from  home.  They  had  wan- 
dered down  the  lane  running  through  their 
little  village,  and  were  now  on  the  road  to 
Killarney. 

"  Why,  Norah  ?  " 

"  When  you  see  a  cloud  of  dust  sweeping 

along,  you  may  know  the  fairies  are  travelling. 

It  might   bring  something  bad   to  us    if  we 

stood  in  their  way.     We  want  them  to  be  our 

friends,  of  course." 

14 


The  Thunder  -  Storm  15 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  Norah.  I'll  be  careful  next 
time.  But  I'm  tired.  Tell  me  a  story  about 
the  fairies." 

"  I'm  tired,  too,  Katie  darlint.  But  I'll  tell 
ye  this  much.  There  once  was  a  man  who 
did  not  care  for  the  fairies  as  he  should.  Per- 
haps he  did  not  believe  they  used  arrows  and 
shot  them  at  the  cattle  of  those  people  with 
whom  they  were  angry.  Oh,  Katie,  it  is  the 
living  truth  that  the  fairies  can  bewitch  any  one 
whom  they  please. 

"  Well,  the  man  of  whom  I  was  tellin'  ye 
bought  a  farm.  It  was  close  to  a  beautiful 
valley  where  the  fairies  had  their  home.  He 
built  himself  a  house;  he  ploughed  the  land; 
and  then  he  made  a  lime-kiln  on  the  very 
borders  of  the  fairies'  home. 

"  They  were  so  angry  that  they  punished 
him  in  many  ways.  But  not  all  at  once, 
Katie  darlint.  First,  they  killed  his 
horse ;    next,    three    of   his    cows ;     and,    as 


16        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

though  that  wasn't  enough,  nine  of  his  pigs 
died. 

"  The  farmer  knew  well  enough  what  was 
the  matter.  He  took  down  his  lime-kiln,  and 
was  careful  after  that  to  keep  clear  of  the 
borders  of  fairy-land." 

"  Look,  look,  Norah !  I  hear  a  carriage. 
It  may  be  people  travelling  through  the 
country.  Put  on  your  sweetest  smile  and 
maybe  they  will  give  us  a  penny." 

The  two  children  stood  still  on  one  side  of 
the  road.  As  the  carriage  passed  them,  little 
Kate  held  out  her  chubby  hands,  saying,  "  A 
penny,  kind  lady,  if  ye  plaze." 

She  was  quick  to  notice  that,  besides  the 
driver,  three  gentlemen  and  a  lady  filled  the 
seats  of  the  jaunting-car. 

"  Take  this,  little  one,  for  your  rosy  cheeks 
and  smiling  face." 

The  lady  threw  out  a  three-penny 
piece,    as    the    driver    stopped    his    car    and 


"THE    DRIVER     STOPPED    HIS     CAR     AND     ASKED     KORAH 
HOW    FAR    IT    WAS    TO    THE    LAKES    OF    K1LLARNEY." 


The  Thunder  -  Storm  17 

asked  Norah  how  far  it  was  to  the  lakes  of 
Killarney. 

"  Four  miles,  sir,  if  ye  keep  straight  on  this 
road,"  was  the  answer. 

£C  Do  you  mean  four  Irish  miles  ? "  asked 
one  of  the  gentlemen.  "  For,  if  you  do,  we 
have  an  hour's  good  drive  before  us." 

"  Sure,  and  I  always  supposed  a  mile  is  a 
mile,"  answered  Norah,  with  a  perplexed  look 
in  her  eyes. 

The  gentleman  laughed,  and  said,  "  If  you 
go  to  America  when  you  grow  up,  you  will 
find  that  two  of  our  miles  will  almost  make 
one  of  yours." 

The  car  passed  on,  and  the  children  stood 
watching  the  travellers  out  of  sight. 

"  Isn't  it  grand  to  be  travelling  like  that, 
Katie  ?  "  said  her  sister.  "  A  jaunting-car  is 
one  of  the  finest  things  in  the  world." 

But  the  people  who  were  in  the  carriage  did 
not  agree  with  her. 


1 8         Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  the  lady,  "  I'm  afraid  of 
falling  out  whenever  the  horse  goes  fast. 
And  as  for  this  beautiful  country,  I  can  only 
see  what  is  on  one  side  of  the  road  at  a  time." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  her  husband. 
"  I  have  always  wanted  to  ride  in  a  jaunting- 
car,  but  it  is  more  fun  to  talk  about  it  than  to 
really  do  it." 

"  But  what  is  a  jaunting-car?  "  perhaps  you 
are  wondering. 

It  is  a  carriage  in  which  the  seats  are  placed 
back  to  back,  facing  sideways.  It  has  no  top, 
but  has  big  wheels  and  big  springs  underneath. 

A  small  jaunting-car,  like  the  one  which  had 
passed  the  children,  has  two  wheels,  and  seats 
long  enough  to  hold  four  people,  two  on  each 
side.  The  driver's  place  is  built  out  in  front, 
reaching  over  the  horse's  back.  Such  a  car  is 
very  light,  and  one  horse  can  carry  it  easily. 

But  what  the  lady  said  was  true.  There 
was   no  way   for  the  passengers  to    hold   on 


The  Thunder  -  Storm  19 

firmly.  Besides  this,  they  could  see  the  view 
on  only  one  side  at  a  time. 

A  story  has  been  told  of  a  man  who  was 
travelling  in  Ireland  and  wished  to  see  the 
country.  He  rode  in  a  jaunting-car  from 
Queenstown  to  Cork.  He  sat  on  the  side  of 
the  car  toward  the  hill  and  did  not  get  a  single 
view  of  the  river.  When  he  went  back  again 
he  changed  his  seat  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
car.  And  still  he  saw  nothing  but  the  hill. 
It  is  no  wonder  that,  when  people  spoke  to 
him  about  the  river  between  Cork  and 
Queenstown,  he  said,  "There  is  no  river. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  except  a  hill." 

Do  you  see  the  joke  ?  And  do  you  under- 
stand the  reason  why  he  saw  only  one  side  of 
the  country,  though  he  travelled  twice  over 
the  same  road  ? 

Norah  and  her  little  sister  had  just  turned 
to  go  home,  when  they  noticed  the  sky  had 
grown  black  with  heavy  clouds. 


20        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

"  It  is  going  to  rain,  Katie.  We  must 
hurry,  for  I  fear  it  will  thunder  and  lighten," 
said  Norah. 

The  children  began  to  run.  Although  they 
did  not  mind  the  rain,  they  were  both  afraid 
of  thunder-storms. 

"  There  !  hear  that,  and  that !  "  sobbed 
Katie,  beginning  to  cry.  A  streak  of  light- 
ning had  darted  across  the  sky,  followed 
almost  instantly  by  a  loud   peal   of  thunder. 

Down  came  the  rain  in  torrents,  just  as  the 
children  turned  from  the  road  and  entered 
the  lane  leading  to  their  own  little  village. 
As  they  did  so,  the  sound  of  wheels  could  be 
heard  behind  them. 

They  were  in  too  great  a  hurry  and  too 
much  frightened  to  turn  around.  But  as  they 
reached  their  own  door,  the  very  jaunting-car 
they  had  met  on  the  road  to  Killarney  drove  up. 

The  children's  mother  had  been  watching 
from  the  doorway. 


The  Thunder -Storm  21 

"  Come  in,  children,  as  fast  as  you  can.  I 
was  near  beside  mesilf,  I  was  that  worried 
about  ye." 

Then  the  good  woman,  turning  with  a  wel- 
come smile  to  the  people  in  the  carriage,  asked 
them  to  shelter  themselves  from  the  storm  in 
her  poor  little  cot. 

The  two  drenched  children  rushed  to  the 
fireplace  and  stood  there  with  the  water  drip- 
ping from  their  skirts  and  making  little 
puddles  on  the  floor  of  the  cabin. 

In  the  meantime,  their  mother  was  making 
her  visitors  as  comfortable  as  she  could.  Two 
of  the  gentlemen  took  seats  on  the  edge  of  a 
big  feather  bed,  for  there  were  not  chairs 
enough  to  go  around.  The  lady  was  given 
the  best  chair,  after  Norah's  mother  had 
dusted  it  with  her  apron,  and  placed  it  near 
the  fire. 

The  flock  of  geese  had  somehow  managed 
to  follow  the  visitors  into  the  house,  and  the 


22        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

big  apron  was  next  used  to  drive  the  poor  wet 
creatures  out  into  the  storm.  It  was  plain  to 
see  they  did  not  enjoy  it  any  more  than  the 
people  themselves. 

"  You  must  excuse  us  for  taking  you  by 
surprise  in  this  way,"  said  the  lady,  as  soon  as 
it  was  quiet  enough  for  the  kind  Irishwoman 
to  hear  her,  "  but  we  saw  the  storm  sud- 
denly coming  up,  and  we  knew  we  were  too 
far  from  Killarney  to  get  there  before  it 
should  break  upon  us."  She  smiled  as  she 
went  on,  "  Indeed,  it  overtook  us  before  we 
could  even  reach  your  village." 

As  she  finished  speaking,  there  was  a  blind- 
ing flash  of  lightning.  It  was  almost  instantly 
followed  by  a  peal  of  thunder  which  shook 
the  little  cabin  again  and  again. 

Norah's  mother  made  the  sign  of  the  cross 
upon  her  breast,  and  her  lips  moved  in  prayer. 
Every  one  was  silent  as  flash  after  flash  of 
bright  light  came   through   the  window,  and 


The  Thunder -Storm  23 

one  peal  of  thunder  followed  close  upon 
another. 

It  was  a  good  half-hour  before  the  storm 
began  to  die  away. 

"  Yes,  the  rain  comes  often  in  these  parts, 
and  thunder-storms  are  a  common  matter  in 
the  summer  time,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neil,  when 
they   fell   to   talking  again. 

"  That  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  don't 
like  jaunting-cars,"  said  her  lady  visitor. 
"  They  have  no  covering,  and  in  a  sudden 
rain  there  is  no  way   of  keeping  dry." 

"  Wheniver  the  lightning  comes  as  it  did  a 
few  minutes  ago,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neil,  "it 
makes  me  think  of  a  story  told  by  me  father, 
God  rest  his  sowl. 

"  There  was  once  a  man  working  in  his 
garden.  It  began  to  thunder,  and  the  man 
was  scared.  He  put  his  head  through  a  hole 
in  the  wall.  f  God  save  whativer  is  out  of 
me.'     That  is  what  he  prayed. 


24         Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

"  He  had  no  sooner  said  those  words  than 
the  wall  fell  and  his  head  was  taken  off  en- 
tirely. 

"You  see,  he  didn't  pray  for  the  whole  of 
him. 

"  Now,  my  good  father  said  that  was  just 
right.  The  man  was  selfish  to  think  only  of 
himsilf.  He  should  have  prayed  large,  for  all 
the  folk  around  him,  and  not  small,  just  for  him- 
silf.    It  was  the  judgment  of  Hiven  upon  him. 

"  But,  dear  me !  I  must  tend  to  my 
baking.     I  had  clean  forgot  it  in  the  storm." 

Mrs.  O'Neil  turned  to  the  fireplace  and 
lifted  a  round,  low  pot  out  of  the  ashes. 
When  she  had  set  it  on  the  table,  she  took  off 
the  cover.  Then,  turning  the  pot  upside 
down,  a  dark,  heavy  loaf  of  bread  fell  out 
upon  the  table. 

The  visitors  rose  to  go,  thanking  the  good 
woman  for  her  kindness  in  giving  them  shelter 
during  the  storm. 


The  Thunder  -  Storm  25 

But  Mrs.  O'Neil  would  not  hear  of  their 
leaving  so  near  supper-time,  with  Killarney  a 
good  hour's  drive  away. 

She  told  them  she  had  a  nice  pat  of  butter 
in  the  cupboard.  The  wild  berries  picked  by 
the  children  had  been  covered  over,  so  they 
were  not  softened  by  the  rain  while  on  the 
way  home.  With  a  pot  of  good  tea  and  the 
newly-baked  bread,  she  proudly  thought  her 
visitors  might  satisfy  their  hunger. 

After  looking  at  her  husband  and  the  other 
gentlemen,  the  lady  sat  down  again,  saying : 

"You  are  very  kind  and  generous,  Mrs. 
O'Neil,  like  the  rest  of  your  people.  Wher- 
ever I  have  travelled  in  Ireland  I  have  met 
just  such  kindness.  I  shall  never  forget  my 
visit  here. 

"  And  what  a  beautiful  country  it  is !  I 
never  saw  such  green  grass  anywhere  else  in 
the  world.  No  wonder  it  is  called  f  The 
Emerald  Isle."' 


26        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

Mrs.  O'Neil  smiled  her  happiest  smile. 
She  loved  to  hear  her  country  praised. 

"  Ah  !  Ireland  was  a  great  place  once,"  she 
cried.  "  But  times  have  changed,  and  many 
of  the  days  have  been  sad  ones  since  the  rule 
of  our  own  kings.  Did  ye  ever  hear  tell  of 
the  famine  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  one  of  the  gentlemen, 
as  Mrs.  O'Neil  bustled  about  the  table.  "  I 
shall  never  forget  a  story  I  read  at  the  time. 
I  was  a  little  boy  in  school.  It  was  about  a 
family  who  were  suffering  terribly  from  the 
famine.  Their  supply  of  potatoes  had  come 
to  an  end  and  the  new  crop  was  killed  by  the 
blight.  There  was  no  money  to  pay  the  rent, 
and  the  poor  little  children  with  their  parents 
were  turned  out  of  their  home  by  the  hard- 
hearted landlord. 

"  But  at  this  dreadful  moment,  help  came 
from  a  kind  friend  in  America,  and  they  were 
saved  from  further  suffering." 


The  Thunder  -  Storm  27 

When  he  had  finished  speaking,  Mrs. 
O'Neil  told  of  the  suffering  people  who  be- 
came homeless  and  starving,  and  who  died 
before  help  reached  them. 

Norah  crept  close  to  her  mother's  side  as 
she  listened  to  the  story.  Her  big  blue  eyes 
were  full  of  tears. 

This  dreadful  famine  happened  before 
Mrs.  O'Neil  was  born,  for  Norah's 
grandmother  was  herself  a  child  at  the 
time. 

The  potato  crop  had  been  poor  for  several 
years,  and  many  were  the  families  who  were 
obliged  to  beg  from  those  who  were  a  little 
better  off  than  themselves.  But  at  last  there 
came  a  season  when  all  the  crops  failed.  It 
was  the  dreadful  year  of  1 847,  when  the  blight 
fell  upon  every  part  of  Ireland. 

Stop  for  a  minute  and  think  of  the  thou- 
sands of  little  children  who  lived  almost 
entirely  on  potatoes  up  to  this   time.     Some 


28        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

of  them,  it  is  true,  had  bread  every  day,  and 
meat  once  or  twice  a  week. 

But  there  were  many  many  homes  where  the 
only  food  of  the  family  was  potatoes.  Then 
you  can  picture  what  happened  when  there 
were  no  more  potatoes. 

The  smiles  soon  gave  place  to  tears.  The 
roses  faded  away  from  the  cheeks.  The  bright 
eyes  grew  dull  and  heavy. 

Poor  little  children  of  Ireland !  Think 
what  became  of  them  when  the  last  piece  of 
furniture  had  been  sold  to  buy  bread! 

Alas !  many  of  them  were  soon  without 
even  shelter.  For  they  were  driven  with 
their  parents  out  of  their  small  homes,  be- 
cause there  was  no  possible  way  of  paying  the 
rent. 

Then  what?  Fever  and  sickness  travelled 
from  place  to  place.  Death  followed  in  their 
pathway.  There  were  many  days  of  cruel 
suffering  before  the  rest  of  the  world  waked 


The  Thunder -Storm  29 

up  and  sent  help  to  the  sick  and  the  starving 
in  Ireland. 

America  showed  herself  a  kind  friend  in 
that  sad  time.  It  was  some  of  the  very  food 
she  sent  to  Ireland  that  saved  the  life  of 
Norah's  grandmother.  She  and  her  brothers 
were  nearly  starving  when  the  help  came. 
They  lived  on  the  seashore  and  had  been  try- 
ing to  keep  themselves  alive  by  eating  sea- 
weed and  moss.  Those  were  dreadful  times, 
indeed. 

Mrs.  O'Neil  stopped  to  pat  Norah's  head, 
which  was  in  her  apron.  The  child  was 
crying  softly. 

"There,  there,  those  hard  days  are  over 
now,  my  child,"  said  her  mother,  tenderly. 
"  The  sky  is  brighter  for  Ireland  than  it  has 
been  these  many  years.  You  must  not  let 
this  fine  lady  see  you  cry.  Enough  water 
has  fallen  outside  to-day  without  our  adding 
to  the  shower." 


30        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

Norah  began  to  laugh,  while  she  wiped 
away  the  tears  with  her  mother's  apron. 

The  visitors  once  more  rose  to  go.  At  the 
same  time  one  of  the  gentlemen  stepped  to 
Mrs.  O'Neil's  side  and  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"We  would  not  think  of  offering  pay  for  your 
kindness  to  us  this  afternoon,  but  it  will  give 
me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  if  you  will 
take  this  and  buy  a  little  kid  with  it  for 
Norah." 

He  pressed  some  money  into  the  good 
woman's  hands. 

"  But  we  have  one  goat  now,  as  you  must 
have  seen,"  she  said. 

"  Two  goats  will  give  the  children  twice  as 
much  milk  as  one,"  he  answered,  with  a  laugh. 
"And,  besides,  I  want  Norah  to  have  the 
new  goat  for  her  very  own." 

Mrs.  O'Neil  could  not  refuse  such  a  kind 
offer.  "Thank  ye  entirely,  and  may  Hiven 
send  its  blessing  on  ye  all." 


norah's  home. 


The  Thunder  -  Storm  31 

By  this  time  the  driver  had  brought  the 
horse  and  the  jaunting-car  from  the  little  shed, 
and  the  party  drove  off  in  the  direction  of 
Killarney. 


CHAPTER   III. 


ST.     PATRICK 


"  Sure  and  it's  Father  Tom  himself,"  said 
Norah's  mother.  She  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  family  washing.  Katie  was  rocking  baby 
Patsy,  and  Norah  was  brushing  up  the  rough 
mud  floor.  Every  one  stopped  work  at  once 
and  ran  out  of  the  cabin,  the  mother  wiping 
her  hands  on  her  apron,  and  Norah  lifting 
Patsy  and  carrying  him  along  in  her  strong 
young  arms. 

The  whole  village  had  by  this  time  turned 
out  into  the  lane  and  gathered  around  the  kind 
fat  priest,  who  had  a  smile  for  each  and  all. 

There  were  old  people  hobbling  along  with 

the  help  of  sticks,  men  who  had  stopped  work 

for  the  sake  of  a    blessing    from    the   priest, 

32 


St.   Patrick  33 

mothers  with  babies  in  their  arms,  and  children 
big  and  little. 

It  was  a  glad  day  when  Father  Tom  came 
to  the  village  to  see  how  all  were  getting  along. 
There  were  so  few  people  that  the  village  had 
no  church  of  its  own.  They  went  four  miles 
every  Sunday  to  the  nearest  service.  Almost 
every  one  had  to  walk,  for  there  were  only  two 
or  three  donkeys  and  one  or  two  rough  carts 
in  the  whole  place.  A  visit  from  the  priest 
was  a  great  honour,  a  very  great  honour.  The 
children  knelt  in  his  pathway  that  he  might 
lay  his  hands  on  them  and  bless  them.  The 
men  took  off  their  hats  and  bowed  their  heads 
low  as  he  passed  by.  The  old  women  made 
as  good  curtsys  as  their  stiff  backs  would  let 
them. 

Norah  put  little  Patsy  down  on  the  ground, 
whispering,  "  Patsy,  dear,  touch  the  good 
man's  robe  with  your  little  hands.  It  will 
make  ye  a  better  boy." 


34        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

Father  Tom  must  have  heard  the  whisper. 
He  turned  around  and  placed  his  hands  on  the 
baby's  curly  head.  Then  he  made  a  short 
prayer  and   blessed  him. 

"  I  will  take  a  sup  of  tea  with  you,  Mrs. 
O'Neil,"  he  said  to  Norah's  mother.  "  I  am 
quite  tired,  for  I  have  walked  all  the  way  from 
my  home  this  morning." 

Mrs.  O'Neil  was  much  pleased.  She  hur- 
ried home,  while  the  priest  and  children  fol- 
lowed her  more  slowly. 

As  she  hung  the  kettle  over  the  fire  and  set 
the  table  for  the  priest's  lunch,  he  gathered  the 
children  around  him  and  told  them  stories  of 
St.  Patrick,  the  dearest  of  all  saints  to  the 
Irish  people. 

It  was  a  long,  long  time  ago  that  the  King  of 
Ireland  was  holding  a  festival  in  the  Hall  of  Tara. 

"  Put  out  all  the  fires,"  he  had  commanded 
his  people.  "  Let  no  light  be  seen  till  a  blaze 
bursts  forth  from  the  hill  of  Tara." 


St.   Patrick  35 

Not  one  of  his  subjects  would  have  dared 
to  disobey  the  king's  command. 

You  may  judge,  therefore,  how  surprised  he 
was  when  he  looked  out  into  the  darkness  and 
saw  a  light.  It  grew  stronger  and  stronger 
every  moment.  A  great  fire  was  blazing  near 
by  on  the  top  of  a  hill  ! 

Who  could  have  dared  to  disobey  the  king  ? 
What  was  the  meaning  of  the  fire?  The 
Druid  priest  for  whom  the  king  sent  in  haste 
said : 

"  O  king,  if  that  fire  is  not  put  out  to-night, 
it  will  never  die  in  this  country." 

Now  it  happened  that  the  festival  which  the 
king  and  his  people  were  celebrating  was  held 
on  the  night  before  Easter  Sunday.  Few 
people  of  Erin  had  at  that  time  heard  of 
Easter  Sunday.  They  knew  nothing  of  the 
life  of  the  Christ  Child.  They  were  Druids, 
and  had  a  strange  belief  of  their  own. 

Their  chief  priests  dwelt  in  the  dark  forests 


36        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

of  oak-trees,  and  taught  their  followers  to 
worship  fire  as  the  symbol  of  the  sun. 

But  a  new  teacher  had  come  into  their 
country.  He  had  a  message  to  the  people. 
He  wished  to  tell  them  of  the  Christian  relig- 
ion and  of  Jesus,  who  had  lived  and  suffered 
and  died  to  help  all  mankind. 

The  name  of  the  new  teacher  was  Patrick, 
and  Scotland  was  his  early  home.  When  he 
was  sixteen  years  old,  he  was  surprised  by  a 
band  of  robbers.  They  made  him  their  pris- 
oner and  took  him  with  them  to  Ireland. 

After  he  had  been  with  them  six  months,  he 
managed  to  get  free  and  went  back  to  Scotland. 

But  he  was  carried  off  a  second  time,  and 
again  he  escaped.  After  he  reached  his  own 
home  once  more,  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  should 
like  to  help  the  people  of  Ireland.  I  should 
like  to  tell  them  of  Jesus  and  his  religion." 

He  began  to  study  and  prepare  himself  for 
teaching.     At  last  he  was  made  a  bishop. 


St.    Patrick  37 

After  many  years,  he  was  able  to  go  back  to 
Ireland.     It  was  what  he  had  long  wished  to  do. 

It  was  the  eve  of  Easter  Sunday  when  he 
lighted  that  great  fire  on  the  hilltop  and  sur- 
prised the  king  by  his  daring. 

"  I  will  send  for  the  man  who  kindled  that 
fire.  Let  him  come  before  me  at  once,"  com- 
manded the  king. 

Patrick  was  brought  in  haste,  but  he  was 
not  frightened  in  the  least. 

When  the  king  and  the  princes,  the  nobles 
and  the  Druid  priests  were  gathered  together, 
he  told  them  he  had  come  to  Erin  to  put  out 
the  fires  of  the  Druids.  He  wished  to  stop 
the  making  of  the  pagan  sacrifices  in  which  the 
people  then  believed.  He  had  brought  some- 
thing better  in  their  place.  It  was  the  Chris- 
tian religion. 

What  do  you  suppose  the  king  replied  ? 

He  was  very  angry,  of  course.  But  still  he 
asked   Patrick   to   meet  the  wise  men  of  the 


38        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

country  the  next  day  and  talk  the  matter  over. 
Then  he  could  explain  his  belief  to  them. 

On  the  next  day  he  did  meet  them.  He 
talked  so  well  and  so  wisely  that  many  of  the 
listeners  thought  he  knew  a  great  deal  more 
than  they  did.  They  became  Christians  then 
and  there. 

The  king  then  gave  Patrick  the  right  to 
preach  all  over  Ireland.  As  he  went  from 
place  to  place,  he  spoke  so  well  that  all  those 
who  listened  to  him  felt  his  great  power. 

In  a  short  time  the  whole  of  the  people 
became  Christians,  and  the  strange  worship  of 
the  Druids  came  to  an  end. 

Father  Tom  told  Norah  and  her  sister 
many  wonderful  stories  of  the  life  of  St. 
Patrick.  He  told  of  a  spring  of  water  he  had 
visited.     This  spring  worked  miracles. 

It  happened  that  St.  Patrick  and  St.  Bridget 
were  one  day  taking  a  walk.  She  said  she  was 
thirsty.    St.  Patrick  struck  the  ground  with  his 


St.   Patrick  39 

staff.  Water  instantly  began  to  bubble  up 
through  the  earth,  and  a  spring  has  been  there 
ever  since. 

Father  Tom  went  on  to  tell  of  strange  wrig- 
gling things  called  snakes.  He  had  seen  them 
in  other  countries.  They  were  something  like 
big  worms,  and  were  of  different  colours.  The 
bite  of  some  of  them  was  poisonous. 

"  But  we  have  none  of  them  in  our  own 
beautiful  Ireland,"  he  said.  "  You  may  thank 
the  blessed  St.  Patrick  for  sending  them  out  of 
this  country." 

Norah  and  Katie  both  shivered  when  they 
thought  of  the  snakes.  How  good  St.  Patrick 
was  to  drive  the  horrid  creatures  out  of  Ire- 
land! 

"  There  is  a  grand  church  in  the  city  of 
Dublin  called  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral.  When 
you  grow  up,  Norah,  you  must  surely  visit  it," 
said  the  kind  priest,  as  he  finished  his  story- 
telling.    "It  stands  on  the  very  spot  where  St. 


40        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

Patrick  himself  once  built  a  church.  It  is  a 
fine  building,  and  its  spire  reaches  higher  up 
toward  heaven  than  anything  you  have  ever 
seen  made  by  men. 

"  But,  my  dear  little  children,  your  mother 
has  prepared  me  a  nice  luncheon.  I  must  eat 
it,  and  then  visit  poor  Widow  McGee,  who  is 
very  ill." 

A  half-hour  afterward,  Father  Tom  had  left 
the  little  home,  and  Mrs.  O'Neil  was  once 
more  hard  at  work  over  her  wash-tub.  Norah 
was  out  in  the  yard  amusing  baby  Patsy. 

"  Mother,  mother,"  she  called,  "  Mrs.  Ma- 
loney  is  on  her  way  here.  She  has  just  stopped 
at  Mrs.  Flynn's." 

"  Come  in  and  get  some  petaties  ready  for 
her,  Norah.  I  don't  want  to  stop  again  in 
my  work."  (Mrs.  O'Neil  pronounced  it 
"  wurruk.") 

Mrs.  Maloney  lived  in  a  lonely  cabin  about 
two  miles  away.     You  would  hardly  believe  it, 


St.   Patrick  41 

but  Norah's  home  was  almost  a  palace  beside 
Mrs.  Maloney's. 

There  was  one  little  window,  as  she  would 
have  called  it.  It  was  really  only  a  hole  in  the 
wall.  When  heavy  rains  fell,  the  old  woman 
stuffed  it  with  marsh-grass.  The  thatched 
roof  had  fallen  in  at  one  end  of  the  cabin. 
The  furniture  was  a  chair  and  a  rough  bed- 
stead. 

Poor  old  Mrs.  Maloney  !  Once  she  had  a 
strong  husband  and  eight  happy  children, 
but,  one  by  one,  they  had  died,  and  now  she 
was  old  and  feeble,  and  had  no  one  in  the  world 
to  look  after  her. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  generous  people 
whom  she  visited  always  had  something  to 
give  and  a  kind  word  to  speak  to  her  ? 

Every  few  days,  she  went  from  house  to 
house,  holding  out  her  apron  as  she  stood  in 
the  doorway.  She  did  not  need  to  say  a  word. 
One  kind  woman  would  give  her  a  bit  of  tea, 


42         Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

another  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  third  a  cabbage,  and 
a  fourth  a  little  butter. 

In  this  way  she  was  kept  from  starving,  or 
from  going  to  the  workhouse,  which  she 
dreaded  nearly  as  much. 

As  Norah  dropped  the  potatoes  into  her 
apron,  the  old  woman  blessed  her  heartily. 
As  she  turned  to  leave,  Mrs.  O'Neil  called 
after  her  to  ask  how  she  got  along  in  yester- 
day's bad  storm. 

"  Sure  and  I  was  that  feared  I  dared  not 
stay  in  the  cabin.  It  was  so  bad  I  thought  it 
would  fall  down  on  me  shoulders.  So  I  wint 
out  and  sat  on  the  turf  behind  it.  I  was  wet 
indade  when  the  storm  was  over." 

"  Too  bad,  too  bad,"  said  Mrs.  O'Neil,  in  a 
voice  of  pity.  "  We  must  see  what  can  be 
done  for  you." 

She  did  not  forget.  That  very  night  she 
asked  her  husband  if  he  could  not  find  time  to 
mend  the  old  woman's  hut  and  make  it  safe 


St.   Patrick  43 

to  live  in.  He  promised  her  that  as  soon  as 
the  potatoes  were  hoed  he  would  get  his  friend 
Mickey  Flynn  to  help  him  and  they  would  fix 
it  all  right. 

"  Ah  !  Tim,  Tim,"  said  his  wife,  with  her 
eyes  full  of  tears,  "  of  all  the  eight  children 
Mrs.  Maloney  has  lost,  there  is  none  she 
grieves  over  like  her  boy  John,  that  went  to 
Ameriky  and  was  never  heard  of  again. 

"  Maybe  he  lost  his  life  on  the  way  there. 
Maybe  he  died  all  alone  in  that  far-away  land, 
with  no  kind  friends  near  him.  No  one  but 
God  knows." 

Mrs.  O'Neil  crossed  herself  as  she  went  on, 
"  Think  of  our  own  dear  girl  in  Ameriky,  and 
what  might  happen  to  her ! " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

DANIEL    O'CONNELL 

*«  O  Paddy,  dear,  and  did  you  hear 

The  news  that's  going  round  ? 
The  shamrock  is  forbid  by  law 
To  grow  on  Irish  ground." 

Norah  was  sitting  by  her  father's  side  as 
the  family  were  gathered  around  the  fireplace 
one  chilly  evening.  She  was  singing  that  song 
they  loved  so  well,  "  The  Wearing  of  the 
Green." 

"  I  picked  some  shamrock  leaves  this  morn- 
ing, and  I  put  them  in  the  big  book  to  press. 
Can  they  go  in  the  next  letter  to  Maggie, 
mother  ?  "  asked  the  little  girl,  as  she  finished 
singing. 

She  jumped  down  from  her  seat  and  went  to 

44 


Daniel  O'Connell  45 

a  shelf,  from  which  she  took  the  treasure  of  the 
family.  It  was  the  only  book  they  owned 
besides  their  prayer-books. 

It  told  the  story  of  a  man  loved  by  every 
child  of  Erin,  —  the  story  of  Daniel  O'Con- 
nell. 

Opening  the  leaves  carefully,  Norah  took 
out  a  spray  of  tiny  leaves.  They  looked  very 
much  like  the  white  clover  which  is  so  common 
in  the  fields  of  America.  It  was  a  cluster  of 
shamrock  leaves,  the  emblem  of  Ireland. 

"Yes,  it  shall  go  to  Maggie  without  fail," 
said  Norah's  mother.  "  It  will  make  her 
heart  glad  to  see  it.  The  fields  behind  our 
cabin  will  come  to  her  mind,  and  the  goat  she 
loved  so  well,  feeding  there.  Oh,  but  she  has 
niver  seen  Patsy  yet !  " 

"  Father,  please  tell  us  the  story  of  that 
great  man,"  said  Norah.  "  I  am  never  tired 
of  hearing  it."  ^ 

Norah    pointed    to    the    big    book    as    she 


46        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

spoke.  The  first  money  Maggie  had  sent 
from  America  had  bought  it,  so  it  was  doubly 
precious  to  every  one  in  the  little  home. 

Daniel  O'Connell !  What  a  friend  he  had 
been  to  Ireland!  The  face  of  Norah's  father 
grew  brighter  as  he  began  to  tell  the  story  of 
the  brave  man  who  had  worked  so  hard  to 
help  his  people.  But  the  story-teller  first 
went  back  in  the  history  of  Ireland  to  a  time 
long  before  the  birth  of  O'Connell. 

The  Irish  had  at  last  been  conquered  by 
England.  They  had  fought  against  her  for 
four  hundred  years.  It  was  hard  now  to  have 
English  rulers  in  the  country  and  to  have  Eng- 
lish lords  take  their  lands  away  from  them. 

It  was  harder  still  to  have  these  rulers  say, 
"  You  must  worship  as  we  worship.  If  you 
remain  Catholics,  we  will  punish  you." 

The  hard-hearted  Cromwell  came  to  Ireland, 
bringing  a  large  supply  of  Bibles,  scythes,  and 
firearms.     The  Bibles  were  for  those  who  were 


Daniel  O'Connell  47 

willing  to  become  Protestants.  The  firearms 
were  used  for  killing  those  who  would  not  give 
up  their  religion.  The  scythes  cut  down  the 
crops  of  those  who  did  not  happen  to  get 
killed  and  yet  held  to  their  faith. 

"  They  shall  be  starved  into  obeying  my 
orders,"  said  the  stern  Cromwell. 

As  though  this  were  not  enough,  forty  thou- 
sand of  the  Irish  people  were  driven  to  the 
seacoast.  They  were  put  on  board  ships  and 
sent  to  Spain.  Never  more  should  they  see 
the  Emerald  Isle  they  loved  so  well. 

Weeping  and  moaning  could  be  heard  all 
through  Ireland.  But  a  still  more  pitiful  sight 
followed.  It  was  a  procession  of  children  who 
had  been  taken  from  their  homes.  They,  too, 
were  driven  on  board  ships  which  were  waiting 
for  them.  These  poor  helpless  boys  and  girls 
were  to  become  slaves  on  the  tobacco  planta- 
tions of  the  West  Indies. 

How  their  mothers'  hearts  must  have  ached  ! 


48         Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

What  sobs  and  groans  must  have  filled  many 
a  lonely  cottage  of  Ireland ! 

One  hundred  and  fifty  years  passed  by. 
They  were  hard  years,  and  full  of  trouble. 

Then  the  people  began  to  whisper  to  each 
other,  "  A  real  helper  has  come  at  last." 

It  was  the  young  Irishman,  Daniel  O'Con- 
nell,  who  lived  the  life  of  a  country  boy  in  a 
quiet  place  in  Kerry.  It  was  scarcely  twenty- 
five  miles  from  Norah's  home. 

An  old  schoolmaster  taught  Daniel  his  let- 
ters in  a  little  village  school.  No  one  noticed 
the  brightness  of  the  boy's  mind  until  long 
afterward,  when  he  was  sent  to  a  college  in 
France.  After  he  had  been  there  a  year,  the 
principal  began  to  see  he  was  not  like  most 
boys. 

"  He  will  be  a  great  man,  unless  I  am  much 
mistaken,"  he  thought.  He  was  not  disap- 
pointed. 

Daniel  studied   hard  and  became  a  lawyer. 


Daniel   O'Connell  49 

His  chief  thought  was  always,  "  Ireland  !  Poor 
Ireland  !     How  can  I  help  my  country  ?  " 

He  worked  early  and  late.  He  studied  far 
into  the  night.  He  would  have  little  chance 
as  a  lawyer  unless  he  became  very  wise,  and 
was  keen  and  quick  in  his  wits. 

For  he  was  a  Catholic.  That  was  much 
against  him.  The  judges  in  the  courts  were 
Protestants  and  were  ready  to  favour  Protestant 
lawyers. 

But  O'Connell's  heart  was  full  of  courage. 
He  did  not  lose  hope  for  a  single  moment. 

When  he  began  to  practise  law,  he  showed 
every  one  what  a  bright  mind  he  had.  He  was 
quick  to  see  little  mistakes  and  point  them  out. 

He  stayed  in  the  court-room  during  the 
whole  of  a  trial.  He  would  not  leave  it  for  a 
minute,  even  if  he  had  been  there  many  hours. 
He  had  lunch  brought  in  to  him.  He  was 
afraid  if  he  left  the  court  that  something  might 
be  said  he  ought  to  hear. 


5<d        Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 

"  He  is  very  bright."  "  He  sees  every 
blunder."  "  He  is  a  sharp-witted  fellow." 
People  began  to  say  things  like  these.  Or, 
perhaps,  some  bold  Irishman  would  tell  his 
friend,  "  England  can't  have  it  all  her  own 
way  much  longer.  Dan  O'Connell  will  see  to 
that." 

Now,  while  this  clever  young  lawyer  was 
busy  in  the  courts  in  the  daytime,  he  was 
doing  just  as  important  work  in  the  night. 

Evening  after  evening  he  met  with  the 
friends  of  Ireland.  He  talked  with  them  of 
the  best  way  to  help  their  country. 

"  But  no  blood  must  be  shed,"  he  would 
say  again  and  again.  "  No  blood  must  be  shed. 
That  would  be  too  high  a  price  to  pay.  Be- 
sides, it  has  been  fully  tried  for  hundreds  of 
years,  and  nothing  but  bitterness  and  misery 
has  come  of  it.  And  yet  the  Catholics  must 
have  equal  rights  with  the  Protestants." 

He  saw  only  one  way  of  bringing  this  about. 


Daniel  O'Connell  51 

It  was  by  getting  all  the  people  to  vote  alike. 
Then  the  English  rulers  would  see  how  strong 
and  how  much  in  earnest  the  Irish  people 
were. 

There  were  years  of  hard  work  before  Daniel 
O'Connell  was  able  to  bring  about  any  change. 
At  last,  however,  the  government  of  England 
was  obliged  to  pass  a  law  giving  Catholics  the 
right  to  vote  and  hold  office  the  same  as 
Protestants. 

It  is  said  that  when  the  king  signed  the  law 
he  was  so  angry  he  broke  the  pen  with  which 
it  was  done,  and  stamped  upon  it.  But  he 
knew  he  had  to  do  it,  and  there  was  no  way 
out  of  it. 

Daniel  O'Connell  had  won.  He  was  the 
great  Liberator  of  his  religion  in  Great  Britain. 

He  now  tried  to  gain  a  separate  government 
for  Ireland.  But  he  did  not  live  to  finish  his 
work.  He  was  seized  with  illness.  This  very 
time  was  the  beginning  of  the  dreadful  famine. 


52        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

O'Connell  could  not  keep  his  mind  from 
thinking  of  the  sufferings  of  his  people,  and 
so,  of  course,  he  gained  no  strength.  His 
doctors  gave  up  hope. 

The  great  lawyer  and  Liberator  had  but  one 
wish  now.  He  would  like  to  die  in  Rome 
under  the  blessing  of  the  Pope.  He  did  not 
live  long  enough  to  reach  the  religious  capital 
of  the  Catholic  world,  but  his  heart 
was  preserved  and  sent  there,  by  his  own 
wish. 

His  body  was  sent  to  Ireland,  where  there 
was  a  grand  funeral. 

A  great  monument  stands  to-day  in  the  city 
of  Dublin.  It  was  built  in  honour  of  Ireland's 
brave  helper  and  true  lover,  Daniel  O'Connell. 

It  is  shaped  like  the  round  towers  still  stand- 
ing here  and  there  throughout  Ireland.  They 
are  so  old  that  no  one  knows  when  or  why 
they  were  built.  They  stand  tall  and  straight 
and  strong  and  silent.     But  it  seems  as  though 


THE    MONUMENT    TO   DANIEL    o'CONNELL. 


Daniel  O'Connell  53 

they  would  say,  "  Look  at  us  and  think  of  the 
grand  old  days  of  Erin  !  " 

Some  people  think  they  were  watch-towers 
from  which  the  enemy  could  be  discovered  far 
away. 

When  the  people  wished  to  build  a  monu- 
ment to  Daniel  O'Connell,  they  thought  noth- 
ing would  be  more  proper  than  a  copy  of  the 
old  watch-towers  still  standing  in  the  country 
and  reminding  every  one  of  the  old  glories  of 
Ireland. 

As  Norah's  father  finished  the  story,  the 
little  girl  got  up  softly  and  went  to  a  drawer, 
from  which  she  drew  a  picture.  It  was  that 
of  a  white  hound,  the  dog  Daniel  O'Connell 
loved  so  much. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  putting  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  "  if  you  ever  see  a  white  hound  at 
the  fair  in  Killarney,  please  buy  it  for  your 
little  Norah.  I  will  love  it  tenderly  for  the 
sake  of  that  great  man," 


CHAPTER  V. 


KILLARNEY 


"  Mother,  mother !  Mollie  says  can  I  go 
with  her  for  a  day  at  Killarney  ? "  cried 
Norah,  rushing  into  the  house  quite  out  of 
breath. 

And,  indeed,  it  was  no  wonder.  She  had 
run  every  step  from  her  friend  Mollie's,  which 
was  a  good  half-mile  away. 

Mollie's  father  seemed  quite  rich  in  Norah's 
eyes.  He  had  a  farm,  where  he  kept  three 
cows  and  twenty  sheep.  Yes,  and  a  horse 
besides.  Not  a  donkey,  mind  you.  Two  of 
Norah's  neighbours  owned  donkeys,  but  Mol- 
lie's father  was  so  well  off  that  he  had  a  real 
live  horse,  and  a  jaunting-car  of  his  very  own. 

When  the  work  was  not  heavy,  the  farmer 

sometimes  took  his  family  for  a  day's  pleasure. 

54 


Killarney  55 

"  If  it  is  fine  weather  to-morrow,"  he  prom- 
ised Mollie,  "  you  shall  ask  Norah  to  go  with 
us.     It  will  be  a  rale  treat  for  her." 

How  Norah's  eyes  sparkled  as  she  told  her 
mother  of  the  invitation !  Her  cheeks  were 
more  rosy  than  ever,  and  as  she  laughed  over 
the  good  news,  her  teeth  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  the  loveliest  of  pearls. 

The  next  morning  she  was  out-of-doors 
at  sunrise,  to  see  what  signs  there  were  of 
good  weather.  Dame  Nature  was  very  kind 
to  the  little  girl,  and  made  the  sun  spread 
his  loveliest  colours  over  the  eastern  sky. 

There  was  a  great  scrubbing  and  cleaning 
before  Norah  was  ready  to  start.  Her  mother 
combed  and  brushed  her  thick,  long  hair,  and 
made  it  into  two  glossy  braids.  What  did  it 
matter  if  there  was  no  hat  to  wear !  She  was 
so  pretty,  she  did  not  need  straw  or  ribbon  to 
make  people  stop  to  look  at  the  bright,  happy 
face,  with  eyes  ever  ready  to  laugh  or  cry. 


56        Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 

When  she  was  dressed  in  her  pink  cotton 
gown  (it  was  the  only  one  she  had,  and  her 
mother  had  washed  and  ironed  and  mended  it 
the  night  before,  after  Norah  had  gone  to 
bed),  she  ate  her  breakfast,  and  slipped  over 
the  fields  to  Mollie's,  as  happy  as  a  lark. 

The  horse  and  car  already  stood  waiting  at 
the  door.  Mollie  and  Norah,  and  Mollie's 
sister  Bridget,  sat  together  on  one  side  of  the 
car,  while  the  jolly  farmer,  with  his  wife  and 
baby,  filled  the  other  seat.  Mollie's  big 
brother  Tim   was  the  driver. 

As  they  jogged  along  through  the  beautiful 
country,  the  party  sang  "  Killarney,"  and 
other  favourite  songs.  After  awhile,  Mollie's 
mother  started  "The  harp  that  once  thro' 
Tara's  halls,"  and  every  one  joined  in  with 
a  will. 

When  the  song  came  to  an  end,  the  farmer 
told  the  children  about  an  old  harper  who 
used  to   go  wandering  through  the  country. 


Killarney  57 

He  stopped  at  every  place  to  play  the  tunes 
the  people  loved  so  well. 

But  that  was  before  Mollie  and  Norah  were 
born.  Yes,  before  even  the  farmer  himself 
was  born.  He  had  heard  his  mother  tell 
about  the  old  man,  and  how  bright  his  eyes 
grew  as  his  fingers  drew  out  the  tunes  from 
the  harp. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  were  many  such 
harpers  in  the  country.  Those  were  the  days 
of  the  Irish  kings  and  lords.  There  were 
feasts  and  dancing  and  music  in  many  a  stone 
castle  in  those  times. 

But  now,  alas,  most  of  the  castles 
are  only  ruins,  where  the  kindly  ivy 
covers  the  piles  of  stones,  and  the  wind 
howls  through  the  empty  door  and  window 
places. 

One  castle  was  the  grandest  of  all.  It  was 
called  the  Hall  of  Tara,  and  was  built  on  the 
top   of  a   high   hill.     Mollie  and  Norah  had 


58        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

often  heard  of  the  doings  in  that  grand 
building. 

It  was  the  place  where  the  Irish  princes  met 
together  to  choose  their  king.  It  was  there 
that  he  was  crowned,  upon  an  upright  stone 
that  actually  roared  during  the  ceremony.  At 
least,  so  the  story  runs. 

The  laws  of  the  country  were  made  in  the 
Hall  of  Tara,  and  a  great  feast  was  served 
there  before  commencing  business  each  day. 
Three  loud  blasts  were  sounded  by  the  trum- 
peter to  call  the  people  together  in  the  great 
dining-room. 

Not  only  princes  and  nobles  met  in  Tara's 
Hall.  There  were  also  poets  and  wise  men. 
For  those  were  the  days  when  Ireland  had 
places  of  learning  where  many  scholars  gath- 
ered, to  study  history  and  poetry,  the  move- 
ments of  the  sun  and  stars,  and  many  other 
things.  Those  were  great  days  for  Old  Ire- 
land. 


Killarney  59 

"  Oh,  see  !     See  !  "  cried  Norah. 

Mollie's  brother  stopped  the  horse  to  let 
every  one  see  the  beautiful  sight  before  them. 
The  lovely  lakes,  shut  in  by  high  mountains, 
were  ahead  of  them. 

"They  are  the  jewels  of  Erin,"  cried  Mol- 
lie's mother.  "  They  are  diamonds  sparkling 
on  the  breast  of  our  country." 

It  was  no  wonder  she  spoke  as  she  did.  It 
would  be  hard  to  find  any  spot  in  the 
world  more  beautiful  than  the  Lakes  of 
Killarney. 

As  the  horse  started  up  once  more,  they 
passed  high  stone  walls  covered  with  moss  and 
ferns  and  ivy.  The  branches  of  tall  trees  met 
together  over  their  heads,  with  vines  wound 
lovingly  about  their  trunks.  The  whole  view 
was  so  beautiful  that  even  the  children  became 
quiet.     No  one  felt  like  talking. 

"  We  will  not  spend  any  time  in  Killarney 
town,"  said  Mollie's  father.     "  This  is  going 


60        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

to  be  a  day  outdoors,  childer.  We'll  have  a 
rale  picnic." 

Mollie  and  Norah  clapped  their  hands. 

"  We  must  go  to  Ross  Castle,  that's  sure. 
And  of  course  you  want  to  visit  Muckross 
Abbey  and  hear  the  echo  below  the  Eagle's 
Nest,"  the  farmer  went  on. 

'*  Castle  Lough  and  Glenna  bay, 

Mountains  Tore  and  Eagle's  Nest ; 
Still  at  Muckross  you  must  pray, 

Though  the  monks  are  now  at  rest." 

So  sang  the  girls  in  answer. 

You  must  know  that  Killarney  is  the  most 
beautiful  part  of  the  beautiful  country  of  Ire- 
land. One  day  is  not  enough  to  see  all  that 
is  worth  seeing. 

No  one  could  blame  the  children  for  not 
wanting  to  spend  any  of  their  time  in  the  little 
dirty  town  at  the  end  of  the  lakes. 

The  horse  was  driven  close  to  the  shore  of 
Lough  Lean,  or  the  Lake  of  Learning.     This 


Killarney  61 

is  the  name  given  it  by  the  people  of  the 
country  because  two  universities  once  stood 
near  its  shores. 

The  party  got  out  of  the  jaunting-car  and 
sat  down  at  the  water's  edge  to  eat  their  lunch. 
There  were  no  cakes  or  pies,  but  nothing 
could  have  tasted  better  to  the  hungry  chil- 
dren than  the  thick  slices  of  bread  and  butter, 
the  home-made  cheese,  and  the  rich  goat's  milk. 

And  then,  every  time  they  lifted  their  eyes 
they  could  see  the  green  meadows  on  one  side, 
and  on  the  other  the  mountains  covered  with 
purple  heather  and  thick  forests. 

Out  on  the  clear  waters  of  Lough  Lean 
were  many  little  islands,  looking  like  so  many 
emeralds  set  in  the  silvery  bosom  of  the  lake. 

"  What  lovely  homes  they  would  make  for 
the  fairies,"  whispered  Norah  to  Mollie.  She 
always  spoke  of  the  fairies  in  a  whisper.  Per- 
haps she  felt  they  might  be  provoked  if  she 
mentioned  them  in  her  usual  voice. 


62        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

"  I  believe  they  choose  just  such  places  to 
live  in,"  answered  Mollie.  "  I  think  there 
must  be  hawthorn-trees  growing  there." 

Both  Norah  and  Mollie  believed  in  fairies. 
They  had  as  much  faith  in  them  as  many  little 
boys  and  girls  in  America  have  in  Santa  Claus. 
They  thought  hawthorn-trees  the  favourite 
places  for  the  midnight  parties  of  the  fairies. 
It  was  in  the  shade  of  the  hawthorn-trees 
that  these  beautiful  sprites  feasted  on  dew,  and 
danced  to  the  music  of  fairy  harps. 

As  the  children  sat  whispering  together, 
Molly's  father  began  to  tell  the  story  of 
Lough  Lean.  The  little  girls  were  only  too 
glad  to  listen. 

He  told  the  old  legend  of  the  time  when 
there  was  no  lake  at  all.  A  fine  city  stood 
here  in  its  place,  and  in  the  city  there  lived 
a  brave  warrior,  whose  name  was  O'Donaghue. 

Everything  one  could  wish  for  was  in  the 
city  except  plenty  of  water.     There  was  one 


NORAH  AND  MOLLIE  AT  LOUGH  LEAN. 


Killarney  63 

small  spring,  to  be  sure.  A  great  magician 
had  given  it  to  the  people.  But  he  had  made 
one  condition,  which  was  this :  whoever  drew 
water  from  the  spring  must  cover  it  with  a 
certain  silver  vessel. 

It  happened  one  day  that  the  brave  O'Don- 
aghue  drank  more  wine  than  he  should.  It 
made  him  very  bold.  He  ordered  his  serv- 
ants to  go  to  the  spring  and  bring  him  the 
silver  bowl  that  covered  it. 

"It  will  make  a  good  bathtub  for  me,"  he 
said,  and  he  laughed  merrily. 

"  Pray  don't  make  us  do  this,"  cried  his 
frightened  servants. 

He  laughed  all  the  louder,  and  answered : 
"  Don't  be  afraid.  The  water  will  be  all  the 
better  for  the  fresh  night  air." 

The  silver  bowl  was  brought  to  the  daring 
warrior.  But  as  the  servants  entered  the 
house,  they  imagined  they  heard  terrible 
sounds  about  them. 


64        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

They  shook  with  fear  as  they  thought, 
"  We  are  going  to  be  punished  for  breaking 
the  magician's  command." 

One  of  the  servants  was  so  frightened  that 
he  left  the  city  and  fled  to  the  mountains. 
It  was  well  for  him  that  he  did  so, 
for  when  the  morning  came,  he  looked 
down  into  the  valley  and  saw  no  city 
at  all. 

Not  a  sign  of  a  house  or  living  being  was 
in  sight.  A  sheet  of  water  was  stretched  out 
before  his  astonished  eyes.  It  was  the  beauti- 
ful Lough  Lean. 

As  Mollie's  father  repeated  the  legend,  the 
children  bent  over  the  lake.  Perhaps  they 
could  see  the  roofs  of  palaces,  or  the  tops  of 
towers,  still  standing  on  the  bottom  of  the 
water.  They  had  heard  of  people  who  said 
they  had  seen  them.  But  the  children  were 
disappointed. 

Perhaps    when    they    went   rowing   in    the 


Killarney  65 

afternoon,  they  might  yet  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  hidden  city.     Who  could  tell  ? 

Mollie's  father  had  more  to  tell  of  another 
man,  whose  name  was  also  O'Donaghue.  He 
pointed  to  a  little  island  not  far  from  the 
shore.  It  was  Ross  Island,  and  an  old,  old 
castle,  called  Ross  Castle,  was  still  standing 
there. 

The  stone  walls  were  now  in  ruins.  They 
were  overgrown  with  moss  and  ivy.  But  hun- 
dreds and  hundreds  of  years  ago  it  was  a 
great  stronghold  of  Ireland's  bravest  warriors. 

The  chief  of  them  all  was  the  daring 
O'Donaghue.  Even  now  he  cannot  rest  easy 
in  his  grave.  Every  seven  years  he  rises  up, 
and,  mounting  a  white  horse,  rides  around 
Ross  Castle.  And  as  he  rides  every  stone 
goes  back  into  its  old  place,  and  the  castle 
is  once  more  as  strong  and  grand  as  in  its  best 
days. 

But  this  is  only  for  the  one  night.     When 


66        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

the  sun  shines  the  next  morning,  a  heap  of 
ruins  is  standing  there,  where  the  owls  and 
bats  may  keep  house  in  comfort. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  see  the  knight  on 
his  white  horse  !  "  said  Norah. 

"Yes,  but  I  should  be  afraid,  I'm  sure," 
said  Mollie.  "After  all,  the  day  is  the  best 
time  to  be  outdoors,  and  my  bed  at  home 
is  the  safest  place  after  dark." 

When  the  lunch  was  eaten,  the  whole  party 
crossed  a  bridge  that  spanned  the  water  to 
Ross  Island.  The  children  played  games 
over  the  smooth  lawns,  picked  flowers,  and 
told  fairy  stories. 

Then  Mollie's  brother  rowed  the  girls  out 
on  the  lake.  Many  a  time  he  rested  on  his 
oars  while  the  children  called  out  and  then 
listened  for  the  echo  to  answer  them. 

"  There  it  is,  hark  !  "  said  Tim. 

A  party  of  travellers  came  rowing  toward 
them.     They  had  hired  an  Irish  piper  to  go 


Killarney  67 

with  them.  As  he  played  a  slow  tune,  the 
answer  came  back. 

Tim  whistled,  and  the  echo  repeated  it. 
Then  Norah  sang  the  first  line  of  "  Come 
Back  to  Erin,"  and  the  echo  sang  it  back 
again. 

But  the  afternoon  was  going  fast,  and  the 
children  could  now  hear  Mollie's  father  calling 
to  them  from  the  shore.  They  must  get  back 
to  land  as  soon  as  possible. 

When  they  reached  the  car,  they  jumped  in, 
and  all  started  at  once  for  Muckross  Abbey, 
at  the  other  end  of  the  lake. 

It  had  once  been  a  great  place  of  learning, 
but  it  was  now  in  ruins.  Ah  !  but  such  beau- 
tiful ruins,  covered  with  mosses  and  creeping 
vines.  How  the  ivy  seemed  to  love  the  old 
stone  walls  ! 

Some  of  Ireland's  greatest  men  were  buried 
here.  Poets  and  soldiers  and  wise  men  lie 
in  their  tombs.     Norah  and   Mollie  stepped 


68        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

softly  and  spoke  in  low  tones  as  they  walked 
among  them,  half-buried  in  moss  and  ivy. 

But  they  did  not  linger  long.  They  loved 
the  sunshine  and  the  brightness  outside,  and 
were  glad  to  get  back  to  them. 

They  took  their  places  in  the  jaunting-car 
once  more,  and  started  on  their  homeward 
way. 

As  they  drove  along,  they  passed  the  grand 
home  of  a  rich  Englishman.  A  long  and  fine 
driveway  led  up  to  it  from  the  road.  It  was 
almost  hidden  in  a  lovely  grove. 

Just  as  they  drew  near,  a  party  of  horsemen 
passed  them  and  turned  into  the  driveway, 
blowing  their  horns.  They  had  been  out 
hunting  and  were   now   returning. 

"  Arrah  !  they  have  a  jolly  life,"  said  Mol- 
lie's  mother.  "  Hunting  and  fishing  and  feast- 
ing. That  is  the  way  they  pass  their  days. 
But,  glory  be  to  God,  I  have  my  husband  and 
childer  and  our  little  farm,  and  I  am  content." 


Killarney  69 

She  might  have  said,  also  : 

"  I  live  in  the  most  beautiful  part  of  beauti- 
ful Ireland.  I  can  look  to  my  heart's  content 
at  the  lovely  hills  and  lakes,  the  fields  filled 
with  flowers,  and  the  cascades  rippling  down 
the  mountainsides." 

Yes,  let  glory  be  to  God  that  the  poor 
can  enjoy  these  blessings,  and  it  costs  them 
nothing. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


HALLOWE  EN 


"  It's  jumping  wid  joy  I  am,"  said  Norah. 

It  was  the  eve  of  the  first  day  of  November, 
and  the  little  girl  was  putting  on  a  new  dress. 
Her  father  had  been  to  the  pig  fair  at  Kil- 
larney.  He  had  sold  his  pigs  for  a  good  price, 
and  had  brought  home  enough  blue  cloth  to 
make  gowns  for  both  Norah  and  Katie. 

But  what  is  a  pig  fair  ?  perhaps  you  are 
wondering.  It  is  like  any  other  fair  in  the 
old  countries,  except  that  little  else  is  sold 
besides  pigs. 

Pigs  !  pigs  !  pigs  !     Big  pigs  and  little  pigs. 

Pigs  rolling  in  fat  and  weighing  a  good  three 

hundred  pounds.      Little  baby  pigs,  pink  and 

white,  and  too  young  to  leave  their  mothers. 

70 


Halloween  71 

Streets  full  of  men  and  pigs.  Everybody 
talking,  and  many  of  them  laughing  and  tell- 
ing each  other  funny  stories. 

And  all  along  the  sides  of  the  roads  were 
horses  and  donkeys  fastened  to  queer-looking 
wagons,  in  which  the  pigs  had  been  brought  to 
market. 

Oh,  a  pig  fair  is  a  jolly  sight,  as  Norah's 
brother  would  tell  you. 

The  two  blue  dresses  were  made  in  a  hurry 
by  the  mother,  and  now  the  whole  family  were 
going  to  a  party  at  Mollie's  house.  It  was  to 
celebrate  Hallowe'en.  Patsy  had  to  go,  too, 
for  there  was  no  one  to  leave  him  with  at 
home. 

There  was  no  baby-carriage  for  him.  But 
that  did  not  matter.  He  could  go  on  his 
mother's  broad  back,  after  she  had  wrapped 
a  big  shawl  over  her  shoulders. 

The  father  led  the  procession.  He  felt  very 
grand  in  a  coat  with  long  tails  and  a  tall  hat. 


72        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

Of  course,  Norah  and  Katie  felt  fine  in 
their  new  gowns.  They  walked  behind  their 
mother,  looking  from  time  to  time  at  her  new 
red  petticoat,  and  then  at  their  own  dresses. 

It  seemed  a  longer  walk  than  usual,  because 
they  were  so  anxious  to  get  there  and  join 
in  the  sport. 

"  Hear  the  piper,  hear  the  piper  !  "  shouted 
Katie,  as  they  at  last  drew  near  the  farmhouse. 
And  her  little  bare  feet  began  to  dance  along 
the  path. 

A  minute  more,  and  the  house  door  opened 
wide,  and  the  visitors  were  made  welcome. 

The  kitchen  was  not  large,  and  it  was 
already  well  filled.  The  big  bed  had  been 
moved  over  into  a  corner  to  make  room  for 
dancing.  The  older  people,  who  did  not 
dance,  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  while  the 
children  nestled  together  on  the  floor  against 
the  wall. 

The  turf  fire  was  glowing  in  the  big  fire- 


Hallowe'en  73 

place,  and  giving  a  pleasant  welcome  to  all. 
On  the  rafters  overhead,  some  hens  were  fast 
asleep,  not  seeming  to  mind  the  music  and 
laughter  in  the  least. 

The  piper  was  playing  his  jolliest  tunes,  and 
two  young  people  were  dancing  a  jig  when 
Norah  arrived. 

"  Good  !  good  !  "  cried  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany, as  the  young  girl  went  around  and 
around  the  young  man,  her  partner,  never 
once  losing  the  step.  Her  heavy  shoes  made 
a  great  clatter  as  they  came  down  on  the 
paved  floor. 

Her  face  grew  redder  and  redder.  Her 
breath  came  harder  and  harder,  but  she  would 
not  give  up  dancing  till  the  piper  himself  left 
off  playing. 

"  Let  us  bob  for  apples  now,"  said  the  host. 
"We  will  give  these  young  folks  a  chance 
to  get  their  breath." 

A   big  tub  of  water  was  brought  in,  and 


74        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

some  apples  were  set  floating  in  it.  Who 
would  duck  for  the  apples  ?  Every  one  who 
had  a  chance.  It  did  not  matter  how  old  or 
how  young  they  might  be. 

It  was  such  fun  !  One  head  after  another 
went  down  into  the  water  to  see  who  could 
seize  an  apple  between  his  teeth  without  using 
his  hands  to  help  him. 

When  the  company  grew  tired  of  this  sport, 
there  were  other  games  and  more  lively 
dances. 

Then  there  were  refreshments.  There  was 
plenty  of  tea  for  the  big  folks,  and  bread  and 
cheese  and  potato  cakes  for  all. 

As  they  sat  eating,  the  piper  began  to  play 
a  soft,  sad  tune. 

"  They  do  say  he  learned  it  of  the  fairies," 
whispered  Mollie  to  Norah. 

Just  then,  the  children's  school-teacher 
came  and  sat  down  beside  them.  He  heard 
the  word  "  Fairies." 


Hallowe'en  75 

"  Do  you  believe  in  fairies  ? "  he  asked 
Norah. 

She  lifted  her  blue  eyes  in  surprise. 

"  Sure,  sir.  They  live  in  the  hills  and 
caves.  And  there  be  some,  I  have  heard, 
who  have  their  homes  under  the  waves  of 
the  sea.  This  night  they  are  more  lively 
than  at  most  times. 

"  Mother  was  careful  this  morning  not  to 
drain  the  milk-pail.  She  wanted  to  leave  a 
drop  in  case  the  fairy  folk  should  come  along 
and  wish  for  a  sup.  And  sure,  sir, 
father  never  puts  the  fire  out  at  night. 
He  says  maybe  the  fairies  might  like 
to  rest  a  bit  on  our  hearth  before  the  morn- 
ing." 

The  schoolmaster  smiled,  but  did  not  con- 
tradict the  little  girl.  He  thought  it  would 
only  trouble  the  child. 

Norah's  father  had  once  said,  "  The  teacher 
is  a  man  of  great  larnin'.      And,  strange  to 


76        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

say,  I  have  heard  that  people  of  larnin'  have 
little  belief  in  fairy  folk." 

"Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  a 
story  ?  "  asked  the  teacher,  after  a  moment  or 
two. 

"  Oh,  plaze  do,  indade ! "  said  Norah  and 
Mollie  together.  They  loved  their  teacher 
dearly. 

Their  school  was  kept  in  a  plain,  bare  little 
room  with  rough  benches  and  desks.  There 
was  nothing  bright  or  pretty  about  it.  But 
their  teacher  was  kind,  and  tried  to  help  them 
learn.  They  were  always  glad  to  be  with  him 
and  hear  him  talk. 

"You  have  never  been  to  the  north  of 
Ireland,  have  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir.  We've  never  been  farther 
from  home  than  the  Lakes  of  Killarney," 
answered    Mollie. 

"  But  you  know,  of  course,  that  this  is  an 
island,  and  if  you  travel  to   the   northeastern 


Hallowe'en  77 

shore  of  Ireland  you  must  cross  the  sea  if 
you  want  to  go  to  Scotland." 

"Yes,  indeed,  you  showed  that  to  us  on 
the  map  at  school." 

"  I  will  tell  you  of  a  giant  named  Finn 
McCool,  who  is  said  to  have  lived  on  that 
rocky  shore.  Do  you  know  what  a  giant 
is  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes.  He's  like  any  other  man,  only 
he's  ever  and  ever  so  much  bigger,"  answered 
Norah. 

"Very  well,  then.  This  particular  giant 
wished  to  fight  another  giant  who  lived  in 
Scotland.  He  invited  him  to  come  across 
the  sea  to  Ireland.  But  the  Scotch  giant  was 
not  able  to  swim.     So  he  answered  : 

" c  I  would  gladly  come  if  I  could,  but 
I  cannot  get  across.' 

" c  It's  an  aisy  matter  to  make  a  road  for 
you,'  said  Finn.  c  It  is  hardly  worth  speaking 
about.' 


78         Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

"  He  set  to  work  at  once  and  built  a  road, 
or  causeway,  made  of  stone  pillars.  They 
were  placed  close  together,  and  reached  up- 
ward from  the  bed  of  the  sea.  Of  course,  the 
Scotch  giant  could  not  refuse  to  come  now." 

"  Could  we  see  it  if  we  went  there  ?  "  Mollie 
eagerly  asked. 

"  You  could  see  a  part  of  it.  But,  accord- 
ing to  the  legend,  it  was  broken  in  two  by  the 
sea.  Even  now,  you  could  walk  out  upon  it 
for  quite  a  distance.  But  the  causeway  slopes 
downward  into  the  water,  and  then  seems  to 
stop.  Some  people,  however,  believe  it  ex- 
tends under  the  sea  clear  to  Scotland. 

"It  is  certainly  a  wonderful  thing,  and 
many  people  from  other  countries  go  to  see  it. 

"  Do  you  suppose  it  was  really  the  work  of 
giants,  children  ?  " 

"  Indade,  whatever  else  could  it  be,  sir? 
No  common  man  could  do  it." 

"  No  one  knows ;  no  one  knows,"  said  the 


Hallowe'en  79 

schoolmaster,  thoughtfully.  "  But  come,  let 
us  join  in  the  songs.  We  know  more  about 
them." 

How  sweet  and  clear  the  voices  sounded, 
as  the  favourite  tunes  of  Ireland  rang  through 
the  farmhouse. 

Then  came  fairy  stories  and  jokes,  and  the 
party  broke  up  just  as  the  little  wooden  clock 
on  the  mantel  struck  the  hour  of  midnight. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FAIRIES 

"  Wake  up,  me  darlint.  You  have  been 
dozing  by  the  fire  long  enough,"  said  Norah's 
father. 

It  was  a  cold  evening  in  winter.  Patsy  was 
sound  asleep  in  his  bed.  The  good  mother 
sat  knitting  socks  for  her  husband ;  Mike  was 
whittling  a  hockey  stick  to  play  with  the  next 
day.  Little  Katie  was  singing  her  rag  doll  to 
sleep,  while  Norah  lay  on  the  floor  by  the 
fireplace  with  eyes  shut  tight  and  breathing 
softly. 

When  her  father  touched  her  cheek  and 
spoke  to  her,  she  sprang  up  with  a  sudden 
start. 

"  I've   been  dreaming.     Oh,  it  was  such  a 

beautiful  dream ! "  she  exclaimed.    "  I  was  with 

80 


Fairies  81 

the  fairies  in  a  big  cave.  They  were  having 
a  party,  and  they  looked  just  lovely.  Indade, 
it  was  the  sweetest  dream  I  ever  had." 

"  Do  tell  us  about  it,"  cried  Katie.  "  Oh, 
do,  Norah.     And  don't  forget  a  single  thing." 

Norah's  cheeks  were  rosy  red,  and  her  blue 
eyes  sparkled  as  she  painted  the  dream  picture 
to  the  listening  family. 

She  had  been  in  the  grand  hall  of  a  cave. 
It  was  like  no  other  hall  she  had  ever  seen. 
The  walls  were  shining  with  precious  stones. 
Shining  pendants  hung  from  the  ceiling  and 
glistened  in  the  light  given  by  hundreds  of 
fairy  torches. 

But  the  fairies  themselves  were  the  loveliest 
sight  of  all.  Oh,  they  were  such  tiny  crea- 
tures !  The  young  lady  fairies  were  all  in 
white,  and  their  soft,  fair  hair  hung  far  down 
over  their  shoulders. 

The  young  gentlemen  fairies  wore  green 
jackets  and  white  breeches. 


82        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

The  fairy  queen  had  a  golden  crown  on  her 
head,  and  when  she  waved  her  golden  wand, 
every  one  hastened  to  do  her  bidding. 

They  all  had  sweet,  kind  faces,  and  looked 
lovingly  at  Norah  as  they  danced  around  her 
to  the  fairy  music. 

When  Norah  had  got  this  far  in  her  story, 
she  turned  to  her  father,  and  said : 

"  Then  you  called  me,  and  the  fairies  all 
looked  sad,  and  then  —  then  —  that's  all  I  can 
remember." 

"  The  fairies  are  wonderful  people,  and  we 
must  keep  them  for  our  friends,  but  I  don't 
want  them  to  call  my  Norah  away  from  me. 
You  must  never  turn  your  ears  to  the  fairy 
music,  my  child." 

Norah's  father  looked  serious  as  he  said 
these  words.  He  had  heard  of  a  young  girl 
who  had  listened  to  fairy  music.  It  made  her 
lose  all  love  for  her  dearest  friends.  She  for- 
got everything  that  had  happened  in  her  life. 


Fairies  83 

After  that,  she  could  only  think  of  the  fairies, 
and  long  to  be  with  them.  She  died  a  short 
time  afterward. 

But,  of  course,  Norah  had  only  been  dream- 
ing of  the  fairies.     That  was  quite  different. 

"  Tell  us  some  fairy  stories,  father  dear.  It 
is  just  the  night  for  them,"  begged  Katie. 

Her  father  liked  nothing  better.  He  began 
at  once  to  tell  of  a  battle  between  two  bands 
of  fairies.  It  was  in  the  night-time,  and  not 
far  from  the  very  place  where  they  were  living. 

Norah's  father  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes 
the  man  who  told  the  story  of  the  strange 
battle. 

The  fairies  were  no  more  than  nine  inches 
tall,  but  there  were  millions  of  them.  They 
marched  along  in  rows  just  like  any  other 
soldiers.  The  men  of  one  army  were  in  green 
coats,  and  the  men  of  the  other  in  red  ones. 

When  they  had  drawn  up  and  faced  each 
other,  the  signal  was  given  to  begin  the  battle. 


84        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

What  a  fight  it  was  !  The  man  who  saw  it 
became  so  excited  he  began  to  shout.  Then, 
lo  and  behold  !  every  fairy  vanished  from 
sight,  and  he  found  himself  lying  all  alone 
on  the  roadside. 

Had  he  been  asleep  ?  was  it  all  a  dream, 
like  that  of  Norah's  ?  He  declared  that  was 
impossible. 

The  mother  and  children  listened  eagerly  to 
the  story.     They  believed  every  word  of  it. 

The  father  did  not  stop  here.  He  told 
now  of  a  grand  ball  given  by  the  fairies.  A 
woman  in  Sligo  saw  it  her  very  own  self. 

It  was  out  in  a  big  field,  and  the  moon  was 
shining  on  the  beautiful  scene.  Hundreds  of 
fireflies  flew  about  the  fairies,  who  were  dan- 
cing like  angels. 

But  the  music  !  There  was  never  anything 
like  it  in  the  world.  A  big  frog  played  the  big 
fiddle,  and  two  kittens  performed  on  the  little 
ones.     Then  there  were  two  big  drums  beaten 


Fairies  85 

by  cats,  while  fat  little  pigs  blew  the  trumpets. 
It  must  have  been  a  wonderful  sight. 

"  The  fairies  are  very  fond  of  childer,"  said 
Mrs.  O'Neil.  "They  are  that  fond  of  them, 
they  sometimes  carry  away  a  sleeping  baby 
to  their  own  home  and  leave  a  fairy  child 
in  its  place.  And  that's  the  very  truth.  But 
come,  husband,  tell  one  more  story  before 
we  go   to   bed." 

"  Oh,  do,  do,  father ! "  cried  Mike,  and 
Norah  and  Katie  repeated,  "  Do,  do,"  after 
their  brother. 

How  could  any  father  refuse  when  children 
begged  like  that? 

Norah  took  possession  of  one  of  his  knees, 
Katie  of  the  other,  while  Mike  stretched  him- 
self out  on  the  floor  at  his  father's  feet.  As 
soon  as  all  was  quiet,  they  listened  to  the 
story  of  "  Ethna,  the  Bride." 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  great  lord, 
who  had  a  beautiful  young  wife.     Her  name 


86        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

was  Ethna.  Her  husband  was  so  proud  of 
her,  he  held  feasts  every  day.  All  the  noblest 
people  in  the  land  came  to  his  castle  and 
danced  and  sang  and  took  part  in  these  feasts. 

It  happened  one  evening  that,  in  the  very 
midst  of  a  dance,  as  the  fair  Ethna  was 
whirling  about  through  the  hall  in  her  rich 
garments  of  gauze,  studded  with  sparkling 
jewels,  she  sank  lifeless  to  the  floor. 

"  She  has  fainted,  she  has  fainted,"  cried  the 
company. 

She  was  carried  to  a  couch,  where  she  lay 
for  hours  without  knowing  anything  happen- 
ing about  her. 

But  as  the  morning  light  began  to  creep  in 
through  the  window,  she  awoke  and  told  her 
husband  she  had  been  in  the  palace  of  the 
fairies.  It  was  very,  very  beautiful.  She 
longed  to  go  back  now  and  listen  to  the  fairy 
music.  It  filled  her  with  such  joy  as  she  had 
never  felt  before. 


Fairies  87 

All  that  day  her  friends  watched  her  closely, 
so  she  might  not  leave  them  again.  It  was  of 
no  use.  As  soon  as  the  twilight  settled  down 
over  the  castle,  there  was  the  sound  of  soft 
music  outside  the  walls.  Instantly  the  beauti- 
ful Ethna  closed  her  eyes  and  sank  to  sleep. 

Every  means  was  tried  to  wake  her,  but 
in  vain.  Her  nurse  was  set  to  watch  her, 
but  for  some  reason  she  could  not  keep 
awake,  and  before  the  night  was  over,  she, 
too,  fell  asleep. 

When  she  awoke,  she  discovered  that  her 
charge  was  missing.  Ah !  where  had  she 
gone? 

Every  place  about  the  castle  was  searched, 
but  it  was  of  no  use.  People  were  sent  now 
in  one  direction,  now  in  another,  but  every 
one  brought  back  the  same  word,  —  there  was 
no  sign  nor  trace  of  the  fair  bride.  Then  the 
young  lord  said : 

"  I   know  where   she    must   be.      She    has 


88        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

gone  to  the  fairies.  I  will  go  to  their  king, 
Finvarra.  He  has  always  been  a  good  friend 
to  me.     He  will  help  me  to  get  her  back." 

Little  did  he  dream  that  the  king  of  the 
fairies,  even  Finvarra  himself,  had  fallen  in 
love  with  Ethna,  and  had  spirited  her  away 
from  her  home. 

The  young  lord  mounted  his  horse,  and 
away  he  rode  at  full  speed  till  he  came  to 
the  hill  of  the  fairies.     There  he  stopped. 

All  at  once  he  heard  voices.  This  is  what 
he  heard : 

"  Finvarra  is  happy  now.  He  has  won  the 
fair  young  Ethna.  She  will  never  leave  his 
palace  again." 

"  Ah  ! "  was  the  reply,  "  it  may  happen 
yet.  For  if  her  husband  digs  down  through 
this  hill,  he  can  win  Ethna  again." 

"  We  shall  see  !  We  shall  see  !  "  exclaimed 
the  lord  when  he  heard  these  words. 

He  sent  off  at  once  for  workmen  to  come 


Fairies  89 

to  the  fairy  hill.  They  were  to  bring  pickaxes 
and  spades. 

"  Dig  without  stopping,"  was  his  command. 
"  Dig  till  you  come  to  the  fairy  palace." 

A  great  company  of  men  was  soon  at  work. 
The  air  rang  with  the  noise  of  their  spades 
striking  against  the  rocks  and  earth. 

When  night  came  they  had  made  a  tunnel 
into  the  very  heart  of  the  hill.  They  went 
home  to  rest,  and  with  the  first  light  of  morn- 
ing they  came  back  to  go  on  with  their  work. 

But,  behold  !  The  hill  looked  as  though 
no  man  had  touched  it.  The  dirt  had  all 
been  replaced  at  the  order  of  the  powerful 
fairy  king,  Finvarra. 

The  young  lord  did  not  give  up  hope, 
however.  The  men  were  set  to  work  again, 
and  again  the  same  thing  happened  as  before. 
The  work  of  the  day  was  undone  the  next 
night.  A  third  time  the  lord  tried,  and  a 
third  time  he  failed. 


90        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

He  was  overcome  by  sorrow  and  disap- 
pointment, when  he  heard  a  soft  voice  speak- 
ing somewhere  near  him.     It  said  : 

"If  you  sprinkle  salt  over  the  earth  the 
men  dig  up,  Finvarra  will  have  no  power 
over  it." 

Once  more  the  young  lord  was  rilled  with 
hope.  He  sent  out  into  the  land  in  every 
direction  to  get  quantities  of  salt  from  the 
people.  And  when  the  workmen  stopped 
digging  at  nightfall,  the  salt  was  plentifully 
sprinkled  over  the   earth. 

How  anxious  the  young  lord  was  now ! 
Had  he  really  found  a  way  of  defeating  the 
fairies  ?  The  next  morning  he  eagerly  hurried 
to  the  hill  to  see. 

What  the  voice  said  was  really  true.  The 
tunnel  was  just  as  it  had  been  left  the  night 
before.  Another  day's  work  was  enough  to 
see  it  dug  clear  to  the  middle  of  the  hill, 
and  far  down  into  the  earth. 


Fairies  91 

And  then  the  men,  putting  their  ears  to 
the  ground,  could  hear  fairy  music.  Voices, 
too,  could  be  heard  around  them.  This  is 
what  they   heard : 

"  Finvarra  is  sad  at  heart.  It  is  no  wonder. 
His  palace  will  crumble  to  dust,  if  one  of  these 
mortals  touches  it  with  his  spade." 

"  Why  does  he  not  save  us  then,  and  give 
up  the  young  bride  ? "  said  another  voice. 

Then  King  Finvarra  himself  spoke,  in  a 
true  kingly  way.  He  commanded  the  work- 
men to  stop  digging,  promising  that  at  sunset 
he  would  give  Ethna  up  to  her  husband. 

The  young  lord  was  glad  of  heart,  and  told 
the  men  to  lay  down  their  spades.  He  could 
hardly  wait  for  evening  to  come.  But  it  did 
come  at  last,  and  found  the  impatient  husband 
sitting  on  his  handsome  horse  and  waiting  by 
the  hillside  for  his  bride. 

As  the  sun  lighted  the  western  sky  with  his 
most  glorious  colours,  Ethna,  dressed  in  her 


92        Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 

silver  robe,  appeared  in  the  pathway  before 
her  husband. 

He  swept  her  from  the  ground  in  his  strong 
arms,  and  away  they  galloped  back  to  the 
castle. 

But  it  was  not  the  same  Ethna  as  before 
the  fairy  spell  had  been  cast  upon  her.  Oh, 
no !  She  seemed  like  one  half-asleep.  Day 
after  day  she  lay  on  her  bed  with  her  eyes 
closed.     She  did  not  move  or  speak. 

"She  has  eaten  of  the  fairy  food,"  said  the 
people.  "  It  will  be  impossible  to  break 
the  spell  that  has  been  cast  upon  her."  And 
every  one  was  filled  with  grief. 

Three  months  passed  by  with  no  change 
in  Ethna.  One  night,  as  the  young  lord  was 
riding  through  the  country,  he  heard  a  voice 
speaking  near  him.     It  said : 

"  The  young  husband  won  back  his  beauti- 
ful bride.  But  what  good  has  it  done  him  ? 
Her    spirit   is    still   with   the    fairies,    and,  as 


Fairies  93 

far  as  he  is  concerned,  she  is  like  one 
dead." 

As  soon  as  this  voice  became  silent,  an- 
other could  be  heard,  saying : 

"  There  is  one  way  to  break  the  fairy  spell. 
Her  husband  must  take  off  her  girdle  and 
burn  it.  Then  he  must  scatter  the  ashes 
before  the  door.  He  must  not  forget  to  take 
the  enchanted  pin  by  which  the  girdle  is  now 
fastened  and  bury  it  in  a  deep  hole  in  the 
earth.  This  is  the  only  way  of  regaining 
the  spirit  of  his  wife." 

At  these  words  the  young  lord  was  filled 
with  new  hope. 

He  hurried  home  as  fast  as  his  swiftest 
horse  could  carry  him,  and  went  at  once  to 
the  room  of  his  sleeping  wife. 

He  hastened  to  her  side,  and  began  to  do 
exactly  as  the  voice  had  directed. 

He  drew  out  the  enchanted  pin.  He  re- 
moved the  girdle.     He  burned  it  in  the  fire. 


94        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

Then,  carefully  gathering  the  ashes,  he  scat- 
tered them  before  the  door.  The  enchanted 
pin  was  buried  in  a  deep  hole. 

He  went  anxiously  back  to  Ethna's  room. 

She  was  already  coming  back  to  life.  As 
her  husband  stood  at  her  side,  she  began  to 
smile  at  him  in  her  old,  sweet  way. 

And  now  she  moved  and  spoke,  and  took 
up  her  life  as  in  the  days  before  the  fairy  spell 
was  cast  upon  her. 

Her  husband  and  all  others  in  the  castle 
were  filled  with  happiness.  There  was  great 
rejoicing.  The  beautiful  Ethna  was  safe,  and 
King  Finvarra  never  again  tried  to  win  her  to 
the  fairy  realm. 

Is  it  a  true  story?  some  one  asks.  If  you 
do  not  believe  it,  you  need  only  go  to  the  hill 
through  which  the  tunnel  was  dug.  It  can  be 
seen,  even  now.  And  people  still  call  it  the 
Fairies'  Glen. 

When  Norah's  father  finished  the  story,  the 


Fairies  95 

children  begged  him  to  tell  "just  one  more, 
plaze."     But  he  pointed  to  the  clock. 

"  Late,  late  it  is  for  you  childer  to  be  up," 
he  said.  "  It  is  to  bed  ye  must  go  this  very 
minute." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward,  every  one 
in  the  little  cabin  was  settled  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


BLARNEY    CASTLE 


Norah's  friend,  Mollie,  had  just  got  home 
from  a  long  journey.  At  least  it  seemed  a 
long  one  to  Norah,  who  had  never  been 
farther  away  from  home  than  the  Lakes  of 
Killarney. 

Mollie  had  been  all  the  way  to  Cork  and 
Queenstown  with  her  father  and  mother. 
They  went  to  see  Mollie's  uncle  start  for 
America  on  a  big  steamer. 

Queenstown  is  at  the  mouth  of  the  River 
Lee.  It  used  to  be  called  the  Cove  of  Cork, 
but  the  name  was  changed  to  Queenstown  in 
honour  of  Queen  Victoria. 

It  seemed  a  very  big  place  to  Mollie.     As 

she  described  the  queer  cars  running  through 

the  city,  and  the  great  steamers  at  the  docks, 

96 


Blarney  Castle  97 

it  was  a  wonderful  picture  that  little  Norah 
saw  in  her  mind. 

Mollie  had  gone  there  in  a  railway  train. 
When  the  guard  shut  her  and  her  parents 
inside  the  car  and  locked  the  door,  she  was 
a  little  frightened  at  first.  Then  the  engine 
gave  a  fearful  shriek,  and  the  train  moved. 

There  were  many  other  people  in  the  car, 
or  rather  "  compartment  of  the  railway  car- 
riage," as  they  call  it  in  the  British  Isles. 
Their  cars  are  divided  into  three  or  four 
parts,  with  doors  opening  on  the  sides.  Each 
part  is  called  a  compartment. 

It  was  quite  a  jolly  crowd.  Every  one 
seemed  in  good  humour,  and  strangers  were 
soon  talking  together  as  if  they  had  always 
known  each  other.  They  told  funny  stories, 
they  joked  and  laughed,  and  Mollie  soon 
forgot  her  fear  of  the  fast  moving  train.  "  It 
was  just  like  a  party,"  she  told  Norah. 

At  every  station,   the  guard  unlocked  the 


98        Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

door  and  let  out  those  who  were  going  no 
farther.  Others  then  got  in,  so  the  company 
was  changing  all  the  time. 

The  compartment  in  which  Mollie  rode 
was  a  third-class  one,  and  the  floor  and  seats 
were  quite  bare.  But  these  things  did  not 
trouble  the  little  girl.  Her  parents  could  not 
afford  to  buy  tickets  to  go  first  or  second- 
class.  They  were  glad  enough  to  be  able 
to  go  at  all. 

Cork  was  reached  at  last,  and  Mollie  could 
hardly  sleep  nights  after  going  about  the  city 
in  the  daytime  and  seeing  the  strange  sights. 

When  her  uncle  had  gone  away  on  the  big 
steamer,  she  went  with  her  father  and  mother 
into  some  of  the  mills  and  factories.  She 
saw  glass  spun  into  beautiful  shapes,  woollen 
cloths  woven  by  huge  machines,  and  many 
other  things  made  as  if  by  magic. 

"  Sure,  it  seems  as  if  these  big  wheels 
must  be  turned   by   the   fairies,"  she   said   to 


Blarney  Castle  99 

.Norah,  as  she  told  her  little  friend  of  what 
she  had  seen. 

It  was  all  very  interesting,  but  Norah 
liked  best  of  all  to  hear  of  Mollie's  visit 
to  Blarney  Castle.  She  asked  her  to  repeat 
it  over  and  over  again. 

Not  far  away  from  Cork  is  the  busy  little 
town  of  Blarney.  And  a  little  way  out 
from  Blarney  is  an  old,  old  castle  which 
is  visited  by  people  from  all  over  the 
world. 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Blarney  Stone  ? 
Or  did  you  ever  hear  one  person  say  to 
another,  who  has  made  a  very  polite  or  flat- 
tering speech,  "  Well,  well,  I  think  you  must 
have  kissed  the  Blarney  Stone  ?  " 

Perhaps  you  did  not  understand  the  rea- 
son for  such  a  remark.  Now  you  shall 
hear  it. 

If  you  ever  climb  to  the  top  of  the  walls 
of  Blarney   Castle  and   look   down   over    the 


ioo      Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 

walls  on  the  outside,  you  will  see  a  certain 
stone. 

It  is  a  magic  stone,  you  may  be  told. 
It  has  a  great  charm,  for,  if  you  kiss  it, 
you  will  be  blessed  ever  after  with  the  power 
of  eloquent  speech.  Your  words  to  charm 
and  wheedle  will  never  fail  you.  You  will 
always  be  able  to  say  the  right  thing  in  the 
right  place  at  the  right  time.  You  will  say  it 
so  well  you  will  make  yourself  very  pleasing 
to  your  listeners. 

But  how  is  anybody  able  to  kiss  the 
Blarney  Stone?  It  is  too  far  down  to  be 
reached  from  the  top,  and  too  far  up  to 
be  reached  from  the  bottom.  There  is  only 
one  way.  You  must  have  a  rope  tied  to 
your  waist,  and  trust  some  one  to  let  you 
down  over  the  wall  till  you  reach  it. 

There  are  some  people  foolish  enough 
to  do  this  very  thing. 

As  Mollie  stood   looking  and  wishing  she 


MOLLIE    AND    HER    FATHER    VISIT    BLARNEY    CASTLE. 


Blarney  Castle  101 

dared  try  it,  she  heard  some  one  telling  a 
story.  It  was  about  a  young  man  who  got 
his  friends  to  lower  him  out  over  the  wall. 

But,  just  as  his  lips  touched  the  stone,  a 
shower  of  coins  fell  to  the  ground  below. 
The  young  man  had  forgotten  to  take  the 
money  out  of  his  pockets. 

Every  one  laughed  at  the  story,  and 
Mollie  wished  she  could  have  been  there  to 
see  the  funny  sight. 

"  I  didn't  kiss  the  real  Blarney  Stone," 
she  told  Norah.  "But  there  was  one  inside 
the  walls.  It  was  a  sort  of  make-believe 
Blarney  Stone,  and  we  all  kissed  that  in- 
stead." 

"  Daniel  O'Connell  must  have  been  to 
Blarney  Castle  and  kissed  the  stone,"  said 
Norah,  quite  seriously.  "  How  else  could 
he  have  had  the  power  to  move  every  one 
by  his  words?  He  was  a  great  man.  When 
I   grow  up,  I'll   be  after  going  to   the  great 


102      Our  Little   Irish  Cousin 

city  of  Dublin  to  see  his  monimint.  You 
see  if  I   don't,   Mollie  darlint." 

"  Maybe  we'll  be  going  together,  Norah," 
was  the  answer. 

And  the  two  little  girls  skipped  arm  in 
arm  across  the  fields  of  the  beautiful  Emerald 
Isle. 


THE    END. 


